The Self-Fulfilling Prophecy: Book One
by Princepen
Summary: A/U: From the same universe created in "Second Life Again". The return of Yar puts the crew on edge, while a dangerous adventure brings them to the edge of the uncharted territories. Along the way they must prevent a coveted object from falling into the wrong hands.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

* * *

 **1963 Caribbean Sea-Northwest Bahamas**

 **K-222 Soviet Echo I Class Nuclear Cruise Missile Submarine**

Captain Gorshkov wiped perspiration from his forehead. It was a small matter. He was used to moisture everywhere; moisture in his eyes, moisture in his hair and clothes, moisture on the instruments. The ping of the sonar became steadier. "Depth," he demanded.

"One thousand meters, Captain."

"Captain I recommend we halt our descent and level off."

Gorshkov ignored his first officer. "Status of target?"

"Object is dead ahead, twelve hundred meters, sir."

"Continue the dive five hundred meters then level off. I want to see it up close."

The men were silent as the sub continued to drop down through the murky water. The creaking of the steel and titanium hull reminded the crew of what they already knew; they were too deep. So much for the promised shore leave in Cuba. Now they were committed, but to what, they could only guess.

"We are at eight hundred meters and closing."

"Halt," shouted, Captain Gorshkov leaning over his navigator. "Judging by the sonar image, Captain, the object is nearly 200 meters long, sir."

"Nothing but a sunken ship," Gorshkov muttered under his breath. There were rumors of a WWI American naval ship overloaded with 11,000 tons of manganese ore for armaments. The ship was thought to have sunk somewhere roughly in this vicinity. But then again, this _was_ the Bermuda Triangle, and rumors and all kinds of nonsensical theories were commonplace.

"Captain!"

"Silence! What is that?"

There was an odd creaking and then the interior of the sub grew quiet. Too quiet. Suddenly, instruments began popping and springing out of their places, glass began to crack.

"Outer hull breach!"

There was no point in asking how, because there was simply no time to waste. "Blow the ballast tanks!" shouted Captain Gorshkov. There was a rushing sound as seawater from the flooded ballast tanks was quickly being replaced by air. But something was wrong, and instead of rising to the surface, the ship began sinking further and further down in a twisting path.

"Inner hull is breached!"

Captain Gorshkov grabbed a railing just as the water began to burst inward. Two crewmen struggled to close a safety hatch, but were blown backwards onto the deck as water powered onto the bridge. The water swept the men violently into the command center. As the bridge lights were extinguished and just before he was killed by a powerful jet of sea water, the Captain believed that he could see the swirling water glowing with thousands of tiny green lights.

* * *

" _ **Captain's Log: Star Date 42356.2.**_ _The Enterprise is returning from the Beta Quadrant where a distress call we were assigned to investigate turned out to be an apparent false alarm. According to the small unaffiliated trading ship we encountered whose captain admitted his ship was the source of the distress call, the false alarm was caused by 'mechanical tampering and attempted sabotage' on board his ship. Although I am skeptical of such a suspicious explanation, the ship turned out to be non-Federation, and without further obvious cause for concern we simply didn't have the authority to investigate further._

 _The Enterprise has now plotted a return course to Earth to pick up Chief Medical Officer Doctor Beverly Crusher, who has finished her role in the rebuilding of Starfleet Medical, following devastating Borg attacks several months ago. Along the way we are scheduled to rendezvous with the USS Columbia to pick up our new Chief of Security."_

* * *

Captain Picard turned at his ready room desk at the sound of insistent beeping. He took a deep breath before answering. He knew exactly who was calling him, but he found that as much as he longed to reunite with Beverly Crusher, he had no desire to continue an argument he had been re-hashing with her for nearly a month. So far, neither of them had won. Just a few days ago she had called and berated him again for agreeing to accept the transfer request of Lieutenant Natasha Yar.

It had been arguably the worst fight he'd had with Beverly since returning from the Q Continuum several months ago. Given the events that had taken place during those months, he was understanding of and sympathetic with her fears. But it was time for everyone who had experienced that upheaval to begin moving on. Sighing he pressed a pad on his desk, striving to keep his expression as reasonable as possible.

Her image blinked onto the screen immediately, but his joy at seeing her beauty was dampened slightly by her serious expression. "Beverly—"

"First of all, I'm sorry," she said quickly, apparently unconcerned with the usual salutations. "As Captain, of course it is your choice who you think should be part of this crew."

Oh. Not the _of course it's your choice but you're still wrong_ approach again. He consciously avoided palming his face in frustration. "Beverly—"

"Please just let me finish."

He lifted his open palms, unsure if he even wanted to get a word in. "By all means…."

"You are bringing a potential time bomb on board your ship. And there is no excuse, Jean-Luc, because we all know what she is capable of! I can't _believe_ that you would make a decision like this knowing that your son is coming on board—she nearly had Wesley killed Jean-Luc, and I know you haven't forgotten, because you are the one who saved him."

He merely sat in silence. Perhaps the longer she was allowed to vent, the more she would come to forgive him and his decision, coming to terms with it at last. Or perhaps not...

"And she nearly killed Jack. And Jean-Luc, if I had lost you…I just don't know," she trailed off as her voice began to break.

He cleared his throat. "But you didn't lose me. I'm here. And soon you'll be back on board and we can be together again. Isn't that what we both have wanted for so long?"

"Yes," she whispered, wiping at her eyes.

"Well, alright then-" But his dismay, she had gathered herself and picked up steam again.

"And Seth…I just worry for him too, Jean-Luc. He's been through so much. We're his new family and we need to protect him, not surround him with danger."

Picard shook his head. "Beverly, Seth has no idea who Yar is—or rather _was_ when she had the power of the Q. And I certainly have no intention of telling him. The boy has enough to deal with as it is." Seth, one of the orphaned children of the Marca II Colony, kidnapped, assimilated, and then rescued from the Borg had been living with him for about a month now on board the Enterprise. Just as long ago, Picard had made the poorly-thought out decision to become the ten year old Seth's guardian. For the most part, he still believed it had been the correct decision.

"But how is he, Jean-Luc? I hope you don't refer to him as _'the boy'_ in his presence."

"He's fine, and no, I refer to him by his name of course."

"Good. Because children are quite sensitive at his age—"

"Nonsense… _I_ wasn't," he disagreed.

"And that's why I worry, Jean-Luc."

He shrugged, not insulted in the least. He knew he was a poor excuse for a parent. And now with Wesley, his biological son coming back on board, well…he supposed he had his work cut out for him. "I don't want to burden you, Beverly, but I suppose I could use your seasoned advice in that department," he admitted.

She smiled genuinely for the first time during their conversation. "It's no burden. In fact I can't wait to give you some lessons…." As she continued to smile at him, he gained hope for a moment that she would turn the conversation to more pleasurable topics, but alas….

"So... back to Yar," she was saying, her expression growing serious again. "At the very least you need to warn Geordi, Data, and anyone else who was actually aware of her—her destruction and chaos before you and Q re-set her life for her."

"I've already informed those who knew who she was, Beverly, but as you know this crew is mostly new. Jack inspired a great deal of loyalty, and when he left the _Enterprise_ , so did many of his crew."

"Yes, but—"

"Beverly," he said gently. "As you I've told you, the Lt. Yar that is coming aboard as Security Chief is not the same Yar who took over the Q Continuum, murdered on a whim and set the Borg after humanity. She's just a Starfleet Officer who asked to be transferred to my ship."

"And you're certain about this, Jean-Luc? Q gave you his promise that she would _never_ come to realize the evils that she or her alter ego, or whatever you want to call it, inflicted on all of us?"

He sighed again. "There are too many variables to keep track of even for a Q. But Q and I did our best to merge the timelines so that this Yar, the one who never encountered the Q will be able to start a clean slate. I wish that I could say for sure that she could never know, but it's not that simple."

"It never is," said Beverly tiredly. "But I love you, Jean-Luc."

He smiled. "I love you too."

"So I'll see you in a few days?"

He nodded. "Count on it."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Captain Picard covered a yawn while sitting in his command chair. He hadn't been sleeping well, and was feeling very fatigued. It was getting late and only a few officers were left on the bridge. He was considering retiring for the night when he heard the sound of approaching heavy yet perfect footfalls. He turned to his right and glanced up. "Commander," he said nodding at his First Officer.

"Captain," Data greeted him and then sat down beside him in the command area. Technically, Data, who had been Jack Crusher's first officer on board the _Enterprise_ was Picard's interim first officer—and Data knew it. Of course, as an android, he had no self-image and was incapable of suffering from wounded pride, so to speak. Picard had no intention of demoting Data, as certainly such an officer as capable as Data should be at least Second Officer—but it was no secret in the Fleet that Picard wanted Riker for the First Officer job. None of this took away from Picard's memory that when he had returned from the Q Continuum after eleven years and was alienating almost everyone on board the Enterprise, Data had been one of the first people willing to overlook his flaws and immense ego, and had befriended him.

But Picard had little choice now than to wait for Riker to make his decision. After all, the man had more than just his career to worry about now. Any day now he and Deanna Troi would be graced with a new addition to their family—a baby daughter. Riker had promised that he would give Picard his final answer within a month, and so Picard continued to wait while Riker ruminated over the decision on Betazed.

Data on the other hand was very present. "Captain, I have some information which may be of interest to you regarding our most recent mission."

Picard turned to look at him with interest, which Data had come to learn was the equivalent of saying "proceed." So Data, not being one to be shy about holding back information, proceeded. "Following our brief journey into the Beta Quadrant, I ran a routine sensor flush and discovered that the trading vessel we encountered just inside the Orion System scanned us, sir."

"Scanned us? I don't recall our shields or sensors registering such an occurrence at the time."

"No sir. The scan was done with a highly advanced scanner probe known in crime syndicate circles as a 'sticker'."

"Data, I had no idea you were so well-versed in crime syndicate circles."

"I am not sir. I am however, well-versed in probes."

Picard raised an eyebrow. "I see," he said, unable to come up with a more suitable response.

"A sticker probe is equipped with a micro-optic drill that is capable of penetrating virtually any known ship hull and is highly undetectable," Data continued.

Picard frowned. "Was our hull damaged, Commander?"

"No sir."

"So…the purpose of this sticker probe?"

"Without further information, it is reasonable to assume that the vessel we contacted at the very least, desired a method of tracking our course. Whoever placed the sticker probe is very interested in us, Captain."

* * *

 _As he ran, the smell of sulfurous gases invaded his senses and the heat of the alien atmosphere was threatening to burn through his pajamas. It was just like Yar to bring him down on this planet without even an environmental suit. Just like her. Ahead of him he heard the frantic screams of his son, and tried to run faster. Wesley...please just make this fair. Let me get my son and then you can have me, he yelled. Or was the one-sided conversation all in his head? His pace began to slow and he looked down with horror to see his feet and legs sinking into the black and red volcanic surface beneath him. Even as the lava began to burn him alive he screamed her name. Yar...  
_  
"Jean-Luc...Jean-Luc, wake up!" Someone was shaking him. A strong, yet delicate hand was shaking his shoulder; shaking him awake.

He awoke with a gasp, and began to flail his arms and legs until realizing where he was, and what had happened...yet again. Just another dream. He turned his head to see Seth standing over him, with his slender brown hand on his shoulder, keeping him steady. Seth it seemed was quite familiar with this routine as well. After all he had frequent nightmares himself about his own experiences, but unlike Jean-Luc Picard, Seth at least managed to stay in bed.

"You fell out of bed again," said the boy in a very matter of fact tone.

Picard craned his neck and looked down at the floor. Sure enough, he _had_ "fallen", but lately when Jean Luc "fell" he actually floated in mid-air. And now he was suspended at the same height as his bed, but a few feet over from the edge, with nothing between him and the deck but air. "Merde," he muttered.

Predictably a warm red glow was now pulsating from his chest, shimmering through his pajamas. During the day, when it rarely appeared, it shone a brilliant white, but at night when he was resting or just waking, it was a comforting orange-ish red, like firefight.

Only those few who were closest to him knew of the lingering gift from the Q he still carried with him. And he intended on keeping it that way. Actually, as Q had explained months ago just after he had left the Continuum once and for all, the Continuum hadn't quite left him. And it wasn't so much that the Q wanted to keep him any longer, but that the Power the Q wielded, which it turned out was independent in and of itself, was enamored with him.

It wanted to be his friend, and so at every turn it sought to please him. He had asked for Counselor Troi's assistance before she and Riker left for Betazed to finish out her pregnancy term, and she had skillfully helped him to learn to communicate with the Power just enough to have some control over its influence. First he had told the Power to leave him alone, but it was clear that it felt indebted to him for what he had done for the Q, and very politely refused to leave. Gradually he had come to develop a symbiotic trust with it. He would not tell it to go away, and the Power would do its best to keep itself hidden public.

But it was always there, and in situations where it believed he could be hurt, it predictably intervened. And if it sensed that he wished something to be so, it would readily oblige. It was for those very instances that he needed to learn to control it, because a starship captain couldn't very well destroy another ship with a thought or save a whole species from extinction, and still be viewed as a normal starship captain. He knew for a fact that he no longer wanted to be one of the Q, and he wasn't. But this lingering connection was still inexplicably here. Part of him feared the extent of the Power's influence over him, but he usually pushed these thoughts out of his mind. It was irritating, complicated, and also wonderful in many ways. And for now, it was here to stay.

"Who's Yar?" Seth asked helping him back into bed.

"No one...nothing," he said groggily. "What are you doing awake?"

"You were yelling," said the boy. "I was just trying to help you out, Jean-Luc... _goddamn_."

"I told you the other day not to curse," snapped Picard, pointing at him.

"You swear all the time," Seth pointed out.

Picard sat up in bed, thankful to be awake and rid of his dream, but not thrilled to be immersed in another argument he was likely to lose. "No...I do _no_ t," he snapped.

"I _understand_ French," Seth said easily. "You swear a lot."

"Where the hell did you learn French?"

"From my mother." Seth bit his index finger, a habit he had developed to curb lingering nerve pain from his capture by the Borg. "Where did you learn to speak French? I mean when you speak it, which is almost never."

Picard glared at the boy. "I learned it from _my_ mother." He shook a disapproving finger at Seth. "Surely you can understand the difference between me swearing and you swearing, as _I_ am an adult and _you_ are just a boy."

"So it would make a difference if I were a girl?"

"Of course not, that's not what I meant!" For a ten year old, the boy was much too good at semantics.

"I know... it's just what you like to call me around other people—'the Boy'. It's almost like you forget my name or something."

"I do not forget your name, Seth," Picard emphasized, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "And besides," he added more gently, "all that will change when Beverly arrives tomorrow. I am going— _we_ are both going to be on our best behavior. And that includes no further swearing and the proper use of names. Is that clear?"

Seth nodded. "Yeah."

Picard nodded. "Good," and stood up stretching. "Thank you for helping me out…you know with the falling out of bed thing," he said, extending his hand.

Seth shook his hand with a small smile. "No problem," he said and then all was forgiven. In many ways their relationship was just that easy. And in others ways it was harder than anything else he had done. Suddenly Seth turned and paced away.

"You know, you've been yelling about Yar in your sleep the last three nights," said the boy, as Picard watched him walk slowly around the room and then stopped and turned to look at him. There was something very adult—very old, when Seth looked at him sometimes, and it made him slightly uneasy. Few adults would ever understand the terrors that this little boy had gone through. Sadly, Picard was one of those few, as he had experienced the same kinds of torture and humiliation in the collective unfeeling hands of the Borg.

Picard ran a hand through his hair. "Seth, it's very complicated. I don't want to—to expose you to topics that might hinder your recovery."

"You're still recovering too," said Seth quietly. "I thought we were recovering together, Jean-Luc."

Picard walked toward him and gripped his arm. "We are. And I promise you that I will tell you about Yar...very soon. But not today," he said firmly.

Seth nodded slowly, seemingly satisfied for now. "Okay." Then the boy glanced around him quizzically as if seeing Picard's room for the first time. "This is even worse than the living room," he said pointing to the floor. "Wait until Beverly sees this mess."

Picard scratched his chin and looked around him. His clothes lay in piles on the floor and there was a nearly empty carton of ice cream on the floor, along with several empty glasses that had once held delicious root beer floats, as well as five empty tea cups on top of his dresser. Several antique books lay strewn around the room. Seth was right-it was worse than the living room, which they had both agreed a few days ago, was in an even worse state than their kitchen. The situation was in need of correction.

Seth looked up at him with open curiosity. "Is this how you were before you went to live with the Q?"

Picard shook his head. "No. In fact I was quite the opposite of this. I was very...tidy. Everything here," he said gesturing around the room, "would be in order, if this were eleven years ago."

"So what the hell happened then?"

Picard looked down at Seth sharply. "I forgot how to live among humans," he admitted. "I forgot about those trivial things that meant so much to me before the Q-"

"Like being clean?"

Picard glared down at the boy, choosing to let yet another zinger go. "And I lost some of my practiced self-control I suppose. All of those things my father instilled in me, went right out of the airlock," he admitted.

"Well..." said Seth, "at least you remembered how to run a starship."

Picard smiled and put a hand on Seth's shoulder. "Yes." It was true. He still knew how to command. It still felt completely natural and comfortable to him, unlike almost everything else. "Perhaps I should continue studying my old personnel profile," he admitted. "Just to try and better remember who it was I used to be."

Seth shrugged. "Six root beer floats is a lot to drink in one day...you might want to cut back on those," he suggested helpfully.

Picard rolled his eyes. He had no intention of doing such a thing. Besides he was spending additional time in the gym just to counter the fattening effects of the ice cream, and the fact was he ate little else each day. He laughed looking down at Seth. "What a silly thing to say..."

But Seth was completely serious.

"I could cut back to three a day," Jean-Luc allowed after some thought.

"It's a start."

"Fine, I'll try." Picard tilted his head toward the door. "Now…I'll clean up in here, but you have to clean your own room-and the living room," he added.

"Okay, but my room's fine," said Seth.

Picard's eyes narrowed, as though questioning the boy's integrity. The fact was he hadn't actually been inside Seth's room in about a month. "Let's have a look then, shall we?"

He waved to Seth who followed behind him reluctantly.

* * *

"Oh, this is just horrendous," Jean-Luc declared as they stood in the doorway of Seth's room. The boy's room was in a state of chaos. While one of the Q he had created order out if chaos many a time, so he knew true chaos when he saw it. "Everything in here is in disarray!"

Seth looked up at him. "You're just pretending to be bothered by the mess, aren't you?" he asked.

Once again the infuriatingly perceptive child was right. Jean-Luc didn't care in the least how the boy kept his room. But he wasn't about to admit it. When he was a boy his own father would have never stood for this. What kind of example was he setting for Seth? A really messy example, he admitted to himself. Besides, what would Beverly say if she walked into his quarters and it looked like a disaster area? So he pointed at the boy's floor sternly. "Clean it up!"

Five minutes later he stood in the middle of the living room with his eyes closed, a smile on his face, and a pleasant sensation moving through his body. His chest was very warm and he felt wonderful.

"You cheated!"

His eyes snapped open, still feeling a little woozy. Seth stood in front of him with an outraged expression.

"Hmm?" He looked around him to find the living room was now spotless. He jogged over to his bedroom to find that it too looked not only hardly lived in, but had also now been rearranged in a way that was warm and inviting. He cleared his throat and turned to Seth with a shrug.

"You used the Power to clean the house again didn't you?" Seth accused.

Picard shrugged again, but then broke into a sly smile. "Sometimes I just can't help it."

* * *

 **Betazed**

Will Riker sat in the Patra City Jazz Club holding an empty glass between his hands. He loved Betazed, a beautiful planet, home to his beautiful wife, and yet, he had to get the hell off of this planet. Specifically he had to get back on a starship as soon as possible. The mind-numbing tones of what passed for Betazoid jazz drifting in his ears did nothing to make him want to stay.

He sighed, knowing he should go home, as Deanna would be waiting for him. Any day now his daughter would be born and in truth the only thing he wanted more than returning to duty, was to see her face. He should have been flying high, but instead he felt quite low. He waved the waiter over and lifted his glass as the man approached.

The young man tilted his head down at Riker as though concerned. "Are you sure you want another drink, sir?"

Riker leaned far back in his chair. "You can read my mind, can't you? 'Course I want another one."

The man pursed his lips and hurried away. Riker shrugged and ignored the prying eyes of the other patrons. Everyone could tell he was drunk, which apparently was looked down on in this bar. He sniffed in. His drinking was getting out of hand, he knew. What he needed was a starship where synthehol was the preferred drink. Safer that way….

"Thanks," he said, as he glanced up and took the new drink from the disapproving waiter. He sipped it, and he looked into the glass thoughtfully. Ever since Tasha Yar had killed Commander Shelby in cold blood he'd been this way. He knew it wasn't good, and if anyone knew about his problem he would be grounded anyway. Narrowing his eyes, he shoved the half gone glass away from him across the small table. He turned his attention back to the stage, just about ready to get up and go home. After a few more moments he sighed and ran his hands through his hair slowly. Man what he wouldn't give to hear some Miles Davis right now….

"Keep your hands up there on your head, if you know what's good for you big guy," a low raspy voice came from behind him.

Too drunk to appreciate any but the most obvious threat, Riker dropped his hands and turned around. He was staring into the barrel of a disruptor pistol, hidden underneath a large sleeve, attached to a musty grey cloak. A single piercing eye glared out at him. "I said keep your hands up, don't drop 'em you idiot," the voice snarled.

"What the fu—" Riker turned his chair to face the attacker quickly. He grunted as a second weapon was thrust into his ribs from an assailant in back of him. From another direction, he saw a third man approaching quickly.

The man had shoulder length dark brown hair, striking green eyes, and was tall and graceful. His unshaven, disheveled appearance did not mask the fact that he was clearly in charge of this outfit—whatever that might be. The man nodded toward him, looking smug and satisfied. "That's him. This is Riker."

The gun prodded his ribs and Riker got to his feet, assessing the situation through an alcohol and now adrenaline fueled haze. "What do you want?" he demanded.

"We want you to come with us—very quietly. No need to make a scene," the man said. "You're more valuable to me if you're alive, Riker."

"This is a bar full of empaths," said Riker. _Unarmed, smooth jazz-loving empaths, unfortunately for me._ "Keeping me quiet isn't going to keep everyone here from witnessing whatever crime you intend to commit," warned Riker. "In fact they probably already know what you're planning."

The tall man shrugged and then laughed. "That's alright. I've always loved an audience."

Riker's face cracked into a grin and he laughed too. And then he launched a hard right hook to the side of the man's head. Unfortunately, his reflexes were just impaired enough, and the man was quick enough, that the punch only grazed the man's temple, but at least sent him off balance.

Riker kicked backward into the guy in back of him, and connected with the man's knee with a snap. But then the cloaked man with the nasty looking disruptor brought it down on the side of Riker's temple, and he heard "grab him!" Strong hands grabbed his arm, and then he felt and heard the transporter beam take him away.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

 _ **The USS Columbia**_

"You're going to be fine, Tasha," the woman on the view screen said displaying the same reassuring firmness she always had. "All you have to do is remember who you are." Commodore Gilda Stern, Covert Operations Director for Starfleet Intelligence smiled out at her adopted little sister. Tasha could see that Gilda's short, perfectly coiffed hair was getting a tinge of grey around the edges. But Gilda would always be perfect in her eyes; Tasha's savior. "I've never seen you so worried about a new assignment."

Tasha gave her a quick smile. The Enterprise wasn't just any new assignment, and they both knew it. During the past year, the return of Jean-Luc Picard, considered one of the most celebrated captains ever, had been one of the most exciting and mysterious reappearances on record for the Fleet. There were many rumors about where he had been in the last eleven years, but if anyone really knew the truth of it, they were being tight-lipped about it. Being with Starfleet Intelligence, Gilda would know more than most, but Tasha, who respected protocol sometimes to a fault, would never ask for details.

When Picard had first disappeared, Tasha had only been living with Gilda Stern for about three years. She'd only been seventeen, but had fully understood the impact of Picard's presumed death on the Starfleet personnel she lived with on various ships and star bases. On a personal note it had been the first time that she'd seen Gilda cry. And now she was actually going to serve under the legendary captain, on a legendary ship. She knew that Gilda, who was very ambitious and successful in her own rite, was very proud of her.

"I know," said Tasha. "You're right. I have all those things you taught me to keep me going on the right track."

The skin around Gilda's eyes crinkled slightly as she smiled again. She had never been generous with her kindness, and was respectfully feared by her subordinates and colleagues—even some of her superiors. But with Tasha, she had always provided something, even just a little bit of kindness to remind Tasha that she was cared for.

"Tasha, I know there will come a day when you far surpass anything I've taught you. And when that day happens I hope you will be able to give yourself just a little bit of credit for your accomplishments. So, let me know how things are going. I'm proud of you."

Tasha nodded. "Thank you. I'll talk to you soon, Gilda." As the screen turned to black, she blinked back tears. Gilda had always been the only one who could make her cry; it made sense for Gilda was really her only family. Composing herself she stood up and smoothed her short blonde hair in the mirror, and double-checked her uniform to make sure everything was in place. _Security Chief of the USS Enterprise._ In less than two hours she would be on board. She broke into a quick smile, realizing in that moment just how far she had come.

As her smile faded she turned from the mirror and glanced behind her at her mostly packed suitcase. A small old fashioned metal box with a tiny keyhole lock sat on the bed next to the suitcase. Maybe now, with her new position and rank, and the security of being on the flagship of the Fleet, she could finally leave them behind. She didn't need their security anymore did she? But she decided it couldn't hurt to look at them just one more time.

Reaching up to her neck she pulled from under her uniform a delicate chain with a small key dangling on it. The one she always kept close to her heart. Inside that box were the only things she had kept from Turkana IV. Not even her sister had made the trip with her. No, nothing had escaped from Turkana but her and this box, and what lay inside it. She put the key into the lock and heard the familiar creak as she turned it. Her heart fluttered the way it always did when she took the old crinkled folds of paper into her hands. Pictures all drawn by her, pictures of the same object, and yet each one was different. The older she grew the more sophisticated the drawings became, until the final one portrayed the object almost perfectly as it existed in her memory. A bright shining star.

* * *

 **Meanwhile Somewhere on the edge of the Alpha Quadrant…**

Will pushed himself up on the cold flooring, and leaned against an even colder wall. He could tell by the thrumming reverberation coming through the wall into his cheek that he was on a ship of some kind, and that he was probably close to the engine room. Judging also by the fact he could actually feel it moving, it wasn't a very large ship either.

His head hurt from being slammed by the butt of a disruptor, but beyond that, and a moderate hangover, he felt well enough to fight the next person that came in the room. His main concern was getting back to Betazed, where by now (what time was it anyway?) Deanna would be looking for him, and she would be worried. He cursed at himself. How could he have been so stupid to get himself into this situation?

Suddenly a heavy steel door clanged open and yellow light flooded inward, reminding him that his hangover and head wound were no small matters under the circumstances.

The green eyed tall man in charge and the cloaked man with one eye—, the one who had hit him over the head entered the room. "Nice to see you awake, Riker," the leader said.

Riker pushed himself to his feet and stood to his full height. "If you know who I am, then you know that there will be people searching for me. Is that what you want?" he snapped.

"Actually yes," said green eyes, casually. "That's exactly what I want. And if you knew who I was, you'd understand."

"Well? Don't keep me in suspense," said Riker.

"I'm Marco," said the man, as he began to pace around Riker. "And you will soon find that I'm the one who calls the shots around here."

"Who cares? What do you want with me?"

"You're my insurance, Mr. Riker. I have no plans to hurt you for now. I just want my property. Once it's in my hands, you're free to go."

"What property is that?"

Marco smiled at him, flashing a gold tooth. He was a strange mix of sophistication and coarseness. "The less you know, the less likely you are to get hurt, Riker. Once we get to my ship, you can have anything you want. Food, drink, women...men. Whatever you like."

Riker walked forward and stared into the man's smug face. "What makes you think I would ever take anything you had to offer? You took me away from my home. So the only thing that you can do for _me_ is to bring me back to Betazed."

The shorter cloaked man snorted and Marco glanced down at him. They both began to laugh as though they had just heard the funniest story. "There's no turning back, where we're headed, Riker. And let me tell you, it's going to be a lot of fun." He slapped the one eyed man on the shoulder. "You just let Cain here know if there's anything you need."

He turned back to wink at Riker again over his shoulder before exiting the room.

* * *

 _ **USS Enterprise**_

When Jean-Luc emerged from the shower later that morning, he wrapped a towel around his waist and one around his neck and then walked into his bedroom. There he found Seth standing in front of the mirror examining the still healing scars on his skinny body. Toweling off his hair Jean-Luc watched as the boy ran his hands over the places on his skin which had so recently been invaded by implants.

Absently he brought his palm to the back of his own neck, where a Borg implant had been before the Q erased the physical scars from his body years ago. The emotional scars unfortunately were fresh wounds, having been buried deliberately by the Q to protect him many years ago. However, just months ago those memories had been brought back to the forefront of his mind with the aid of the Q in order to locate and recover the Marca II children on the Borg home world. Most days it was as though it had just happened the night before. And he knew as he looked at the little boy stare into the mirror, that they were forever bonded, simply because of the horrible experience that they shared.

For a moment he experienced a feeling of guilt at the thought of his son, Wesley, with whom he shared a biological connection and a growing emotional one. Wesley too had been taken by the Borg at Yar's specific direction, and Picard had found him before Wesley had been assimilated and disfigured. But Wesley hadn't ever told him exactly what had happened before Picard had burst into the room. He liked to believe that Wesley had been unconscious, but deep down he knew the Borg and knew that Wesley must have remembered something very horrible.

But the largest problem was that he had missed eleven years of Wesley's life up until now, and really all of his life before learning the truth—that he was in fact Wesley's father. At first he had been so bitter and angry at both Beverly and Jack for keeping such a sacred secret from him, but eventually he had reconciled with Jack, although their relationship continued to be rocky. And Beverly, well, he had always loved her—always. And so eventually he had reconnected with her, after they had both learned to begin to trust one another. It had been difficult, but he knew that her presence on board the ship would help him to grow as a person…and yet he still feared the very concept of a relationship. Loving her had always been too easy for him, but it was the other everyday aspects of being with her that he simply was still not sure about. He sensed that she felt similarly, and that she was unsure about him and the fact that he still apparently possessed still undefined extra-human powers. The more he wanted to return to human life, the more he was reminded that he was still at times quite alien in his thinking and behavior.

He blinked, emerging from his contemplation, realizing that Seth was now staring back at him in the mirror with his large dark eyes. Seeing Picard come back to the present, suddenly the boy sucked in his stomach, thrust out his ribs and made a show of flexing his muscles, as though that was all he'd been doing—just joking around in the mirror. Jean-Luc got it. The Borg topic for now was off-limits. As Picard moved to stand beside Seth at the mirror, he examined his own hair.

"Check this out," Seth said flexing his bicep at Jean-Luc and making a serious face.

Picard nodded down at him, and patted the top of the boy's arm. "Very impressive," he said returning to look in the mirror.

"Your hair's getting too long and you need a shave," Seth commented, ceasing his posing.

Picard made a face, smoothing his sandy brown hair down over his forehead. "You're right I should cut my hair. In eleven damn years it will be gone, anyway," he added darkly.

He glanced down to see Seth holding up a hair cutting tool. He shook his head with a frown. "I'm not going to cut my own hair. I'll have Mot do it." Then again, did he really want to listen to Mot talk for however long it would take to obtain a suitable haircut?

"I'll cut it for you," Seth reassured him. Picard regarded him warily. Was this a bad idea? Eleven years ago it would have been _clearly_ a bad idea. Was he seriously considering letting a ten year old boy cut his hair just two hours before meeting his new Chief of Security? Yes. Yes, he was. "Alright," he agreed, sitting down in a chair. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

Seth nodded. "Sure I am. How do you want it?"

"Short," Picard said specifically.

"Okay. Um…what did you mean when you said your hair was going to be gone in eleven years?"

"Q informed me that had I aged normally while with the Q my hair would have fallen out of my head by now—at least most of it. So, he said that he's betting everything that in eleven years I will lose my hair."

"Yeah, but Q was just joking with you, right?" Seth said, hesitating with the humming barber tool in his hand.

Jean-Luc paused and then shrugged. "Probably," he said hopefully.

* * *

 **About an Hour later…**

"Vice Admiral Nechayev, what a pleasant surprise," Picard said from behind the desk in his ready room.

His commanding officer smiled thinly at him through the computer screen. "I'll give you the surprise part, but let's not overdo it, Jean-Luc. You're never that happy to see me."

He nodded. "Fair enough…what can I do for you then?"

"I'm afraid I have some very bad news. Commander William Riker has been kidnapped."

Picard stood up. "What? Was Deanna with him?"

"No, he was alone. He was snatched by three thugs in plain sight and transported away from a music club on Betazed. Fortunately, it was witnessed by about seventy Betazoid empaths. Starfleet Intelligence is interviewing them right now, and trying to piece something together. We lost too many good officers during the Borg invasion, Captain. We can't afford to lose Riker now, too."

Picard placed his hands flat on the desk and looked down.

"Jean-Luc," said Nechayev. "If you feel you and your people are too close to this, I can send another ship."

He looked up. "No. Send the _Enterprise_ , we'll find him," he said resolutely.

She nodded. "I thought you'd say as much. Check in with Starfleet Intelligence when you get to Betazed before you depart. Walker Keel is in charge of the preliminary investigation and witness interviews. He'll give you what you need so you can be on your way."

Picard perked up. "Good. At least Intelligence sent someone…intelligent to handle things."

The Admiral allowed him a half smile. "As usual, we are on the same page, Picard. But there's one more thing…minor, but worth mentioning."

He straightened, his mind still racing with thoughts of his missing friend. "Yes?"

"Deanna Troi is coming along with you, assuming she's not having her baby the moment you arrive on Betazed…."

"Of course, she has every right—"

"And her mother," said Nechayev. "Her mother is coming with you too."

Picard was thoroughly puzzled. "Her mother…I don't understand."

Nechayev folded her hands in front of her on the desk and focused on the view screen. "You will. She is the most insufferable woman-"

"Surely...surely you can simply prevent her from coming," he suggested. "This kind of mission is no place for a civilian—"

"Lwaxana Troi is one of Betazed's top Ambassadors. Like most politicians she is quite expert at getting her way, so it's already been arranged. You'll pick her up along with Deanna Troi and depart after getting Walker's information."

"Aye sir."

"Good luck, Captain."

Picard began to rapidly pace his office back and forth. He clenched his hands into fists. These were the moments he missed having the vague and sometimes absent ethical standards of the Q. He was sure that if he tried he could figure out where Riker was and at the very least, keep him safe. But what kind of person did he really want to be? He had to be very careful. In his position, these kinds of choices would arise often. He stopped pacing abruptly when the com panel beeped. "Yes, what is it?" he demanded to the thin air.

" _Captain, you are receiving an incoming message marked 'urgent' from Betazed."_

"Patch it through in here please," he said, quickly moving back to his desk. He was shocked to see Beverly's face appear on the screen.

"Jean-Luc, I'm on Betazed—"  
"I see that. Beverly what the hell are you doing—"

"Jean-Luc, something's happened! Will was in a club and-"

He held up his hands. "I know, Beverly…I know."

"Well we have to go and find him, Jean-Luc."

"Yes. _We_ do. In fact we've been ordered to find him after stopping at Betazed. I'll be there in an hour and a half, but I have to pick up Lt. Yar first."

A cloud seemed to pass over Beverly's face. She raised her index finger as if to accuse him of something, but he didn't allow her the opportunity. "Beverly, what the _hell_ are you doing on Betazed? You are supposed to be on Earth," he reminded her.

"As soon as it happened, Troi called me. She's so close to having the baby, Jean-Luc. I needed to be here with her."

"Is she alright?"

"Physically, yes."

He sat down heavily. "And you didn't think it important to contact me first?"

"There wasn't any time," she said apologetically. "I'm sorry. I realize if the shoe was on the other foot that I would never let you get away with what I just did."

He smiled slowly, but his smile soon faded. There was too much to be concerned with.

"Wesley is with you?"

She nodded.

"And how is he?"

She exhaled tiredly. "Depressed. The divorce, and then being away from you…he's really down, Jean-Luc." She smiled softly. "I was hoping you would talk to him."

"Of course I will."

"I think he may be in love again."

"Again? Well what do you want me to do about it?"

Beverly's expression grew somewhat pinched. "I don't want you to _do_ anything except talk to him. Find out what's wrong."

He took a deep breath in through his nose. "Fine."

She raised an eyebrow. "That's it? Fine? You're a man of few words lately, Jean-Luc."

"Sometimes words aren't quite enough," he admitted smiling slightly. He cleared his throat. "To do justice to what I'm thinking about."

She leaned in toward the screen. "And what might that be?"

"You," he said in a low voice, feeling slightly embarrassed for some reason.

"Oh." She laughed and sat back and then her eyes widened with alarmed amusement. "Jean-Luc, you're glowing!"

He looked down and was somewhat mortified and annoyed to find his chest was indeed glowing a bright white. He sighed. "Why does this keep happening?" he muttered through clenched teeth.

She looked sympathetic but was still laughing gently. He glared at her through the screen. "Are you quite done laughing at me?"

She sobered her expression with some effort. "I'm sorry, Jean-Luc…has it been happening to you a lot?"

"Which-the glowing or the thinking about you?"

She smiled at him again.

"Both," he finally admitted, and was unable to keep his own smile from shining through now.

Beverly smiled at him in that way she had, and he was really afraid he was going to start glowing again, but then she leaned forward and changed the subject. She glanced in back of her as though someone was watching. "Jean-Luc I have to warn you about something."

"What?"

"Troi's mother." She made a dramatic strangling motion with her hands in mid-air. "The woman is f—…well she's driving both me and Deanna nuts, Jean-Luc. She thinks she knows everything, and is constantly getting in my professional space about Deanna's medical care. And I hate to tell you this, but she's found a way to get permission from Headquarters to come on the _Enterprise_."

"So I heard…Nechayev told me." He shook his head, unconvinced and sat back in his chair. "Really, Beverly. Can she really be _that_ bad?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

 **Ten Forward**

Guinan leaned over the bar, as the newcomer wasn't exactly at eye level. "Hello," she said simply.

Seth put his right index finger in his mouth and stared up at the strange woman in the large hat. He winced, biting down. Sometimes his hands and fingers twitched following Beverly's removal of the implants from his arms. Jean-Luc had yelled at him a few times for this habit, telling him not to bite his hand, so he just did it when Jean-Luc wasn't around. His hand stopped twitching, so he removed it from his teeth and shook it out, before dropping it to his knee.

Guinan gestured for him to sit down at the bar. No one else was ordering anything adult, as it was still breakfast time. "Does it still hurt?" she asked, pouring him a glass of chocolate milk.

He shrugged and picked up the glass, taking a big drink before setting it back down with a refreshed "aahh," sound. "Thank you," he said and then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand continuing to stare at her curiously.

"I could ask you why you're not in school right now, Seth," said Guinan slowly. "But in truth I was hoping you would stop by soon."

"Why?"

"You remind me of someone I used to know. She had the same eyes as you. And nose."

He didn't look as surprised as he should have been-if he had been completely human that is-which only confirmed her intuition. "Oh," he said. "You're friends with Jean-Luc, right?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. "As are you…." She smiled at him and he smiled back, showing his first genuine emotion.

"Are you an alien?" he asked growing serious again.

She frowned. "Hmm…that depends. "If you're as much like me as I think you are, I'm not sure I'm an alien when it comes to you. People like you and me…well there aren't too many of us left. So we've got to stick together."

He looked into his empty glass and then back at her. "You knew my mother?"

She nodded and took his hand. "A _long_ time ago before you were born. I can tell you all about her if you want. Somehow I bet you're a good listener, aren't you?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

* * *

 **On board the** _ **Eureka**_ **in Orion territory**

The room was bathed in a warm yellowish glow, as Riker came to out of a fog and slowly opened his eyes. Had he been drugged? He tensed his back feeling a stretch coming on, and for the first time realized that he was hungry when his stomach growled.

"I hope you like your new room."

Riker's head snapped around to find Marco sitting about five feet away in a plush red armchair. Riker glanced down and saw he was sitting in the softest chair made of a material that felt like satin.  
Marco was smoking a thin cigar that for some reason smelled spicy and wonderful. "Want a smoke?" he asked.

Riker merely stared back at him.

"Or maybe you have a different kind of vice," Marco said gesturing at the table in front of Riker where a glass of beer sat. Condensation dribbled down the side of the glass. Riker licked his dry lips, but then turned his attention back to Marco.

"No thanks."

Marco smiled and took a drag on his delicious smelling cigarette. "Suit yourself," he said lounging back. "You're on board my ship now, and there's nowhere to go but out an airlock. But…I think someday soon you'll grow to like it here, Riker."

Riker looked around the room, being careful not to appear too interested in the decorative surroundings.

"Not too friendly this evening are you?" remarked Marco.

Evening? How long had he even been here? Already it seemed he was losing track of time. Marco got to his feet and strolled casually over to the table in front of Riker. He stooped down and picked up the glass from the table, examining it with studied interest. Suddenly he turned quickly and hurled it against the wall. Riker watched as the glass shattered and beer streamed down the wall.

Marco turned back and fixed him with the gold toothed smile again, but his eyes flashed with something less friendly. "You prefer violence, do you? Does that better fit your image of who I should be?"

Riker remained silent as Marco sat down on the now empty table and looked closely at Riker's face. "What do you believe in?" He took a puff from the cigar and smiled. "Starfleet? The Federation?"

Riker turned his stony gaze to Marco and lifted his chin.

Marco looked up at the ceiling and exhaled a puff of purple smoke. "Ah yes...I remember when those things were enough for me too."

"Are you saying you used to be a Starfleet Officer?"

Marco grinned. "Hard to believe isn't it? I didn't fit the mold Riker...do you? Maybe not as much as you thought you did…."

"What is this? Are you trying to make friends?"

"And what would be wrong with that?" asked Marco with a sly grin.

"I already _have_ friends," said Riker. "And they're looking for me right now. With high powered energy weapons. So I suggest you bring me the hell back to where I came from before your smug ass gets blown out of the sky."

"I have plenty of friends too, and a few business partners, if you know what I mean. And some of them are Orion. Good friends to have where we're headed." Marco laughed and pushed himself to his feet. "You have a lot of confidence for a guy whose luck is quickly running out. Once I don't need you anymore, Riker, we'll either be friends by then…or I'll kill you. Which would you prefer?"

Riker leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. "Okay, I'll play along, Marco; what is it that you believe in now—if Starfleet's not enough for you anymore?"

Marco broke into a slow smile, and took the cigar out of his mouth. "Eternity, Riker—I believe in eternity. And eternity is where we are headed."

* * *

 _ **The Enterprise**_

"Energizing," Chief O'Brien said coolly.  
Picard wasn't sure how he would react until that very moment when he saw her. He hadn't expected panic. As she materialized in transporter room one, he could not help but recall that the last time he had come face to face with the adult version of Natasha Yar, she was plunging her hand into his chest to retrieve the Power of the Q while he lay dying on an abandoned bridge on the Borg home world.

Strangely, this thought corresponded with a sudden chill in the same area near his heart, as though the Power was warning him, "Don't let her get too close to me." Of course, the Power did not speak, but as his partnership with it grew, he was learning it didn't need to speak his language in order to communicate very clearly. So he thought back, "please do not be afraid, and do not show yourself. We'll both be fine," he assured it. An easing of the tense feeling in his chest indicated it was listening. "As you saved the Q, I will keep you safe, my friend," it seemed to say. Suddenly feeling wonderful and strong again, he stepped forward with his hand outstretched to greet the young woman as she stepped quickly down from the transporter pad.

Yar was slim yet athletic, with an attractive confidence he had seen before in another time and place—from a different Yar, he reminded himself. Unlike the Yar from his prior experience, who had longer hair usually pulled into a pony tail, this Yar's hair was cut in a no-nonsense short hairdo. To his surprise, she straightened and stood stiffly at attention instead of shaking his hand. "Lieutenant Natasha Yar reporting for duty, Captain. Permission to come aboard."

Picard dropped his hand. "Permission granted, Lieutenant." He took a step back, still regarding her warily. He noted she carried a very small suitcase in one hand. She continued to stare at a point just above his left shoulder. Was she nervous to meet him? "At ease," he said softly, still studying her face. As far as he could tell there was no recognition in her expression—she did not know him. And he silently scolded his own subconscious, telling it that this was the first time he'd met her as well.

After he had introduced her to Chief O'Brien and they had stepped out into the corridor together, he glanced sideways at her. "Lieutenant," he said as they walked along. "You come highly recommended."

Yar nodded with seemingly real modestly. "Thank you Captain. It's an honor to be here…truly." She finally made eye contact with him as they halted at the turbo lift and came face to face. "You're familiar with my record, sir?" she asked sounding skeptical that such an important person would ever read her personnel profile.

"Oh, you could say that," he said allowing her a small smile.

* * *

 **Betazed…**

About an hour after meeting Yar, Picard was already transporting down to Betazed. Yar had insisted on accompanying him in case there was still danger, but the reality was probably that Riker and his captors were off world by now. So to her obvious consternation, he ordered her to instead familiarize herself with her security teams, as re-capturing Riker could likely require force.

He had expected to be lambasted by Walker Keel as soon as he arrived, but instead was overjoyed to find Beverly, Deanna, and an elegant but ostentatiously dressed woman he assumed was Deanna's mother, upon materializing.

As they walked toward him he struggled to keep his emotions in check. He was getting better at it—returning to the old self-control. But sometimes, at times like this, it was difficult. As a Q he had gone without sexual intimacy for eleven years, and being a Q, he hadn't missed it. But now being human again it was sometimes all he thought about, however inappropriate that was. Like right now for instance.

 _Oh shame on you, Deanna, you didn't tell me your Captain was so captivating. Why he reminds me of a man I made love to on occasion after your father died…now that was an experience I will never forget—_

 _Mother, we are in a crisis mode and you are more concerned about your libido than Will disappearing!_

 _Oh of course not, Little One, you know I love Will and want him back as much as you do. Beside, your Captain is the one thinking about his libido instead of his missing friend, Deanna. I'm simply picking up on his blatantly lustful feelings for me—_

 _He hasn't even met you yet, Mother. And those thoughts may be lustful but they're not intended for you…_

 _Oh nonsense! Who else would they be for?_

"Doctor," Picard said, halting before the three women.

"Captain," replied Beverly.

 _Oh good lord, get a room_ _…._

 _I_ _ **told**_ _you Mother…._


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

 **Earth 2340**

Walker Keel leaned back against the back of the boat, and ignored the hard metal edge that continued to dig into the left side of his back. What an uncomfortable, antiquated piece of machinery. And yet Daniel Rey and his family loved this particular boat, and loved the open ocean, which is why Walker had agreed to come along. Daniel was a good friend. Actually, it was Daniel's son, young Danny Jr., who had dragged them all from the bustling capital of Nassau—which by the way, Walker much preferred to floating on the open sea getting a sun burn. But it was the last day of shore leave, so why not?

It had taken them almost a full half hour on the old fusion reactor engine just to travel the one hundred and forty miles through the ocean to their current destination. He knew that Danny Jr. was a history buff and enjoyed fantasizing about life as an ancient pirate, but Walker still didn't know the draw of this particular area. However, he was about to find out. "Here he comes," cried out Jessica, Daniel's wife. Walker stood, stretching his cramped legs and walked toward the front port side of the boat where Daniel and Jessica Rey helped a gangly diver pull himself out of the water. Jessica as a rule always seemed to be an excitable person, but Walker had to admit that each time the teenage scuba phenomenon emerged from the water it was exciting. This was his third time down and back, and he must have been growing tired, thought Walker.

Danny pulled off his scuba mask as his father pulled off the small oxygen tank attached to his back. Why was all of their equipment so old, he often wondered? Everything was old that is, except for the underwater camera that Danny Jr. was now waving in their direction excitedly. "I got some of my best pictures, yet. Look!" He walked awkwardly toward the center of the boat in his stiff scuba suit and flippers, not stopping to rest for a moment. Walker looked on over the teen's shoulder as he began showing them the holos he'd taken on his last dive.

Fourteen year old Danny Rey was the kind of kid Walker could remember was always popular in school. In fact Danny reminded Walker a little of himself, and maybe it was for that reason that he knew he would always keep an eye out for Danny. Danny was tall with dark brown hair and intelligent, piercing green eyes. His tanned skin and rakish demeanor made him a handsome kid. But what Danny really had a surplus of—something you just couldn't fake—was charisma. Everybody wanted to be around Danny, and Danny knew it. He used his powers to lure everyone in and to convince them that he was right in any given situation. "I was hoping to find a ship," Danny was saying. "Maybe an old pirate or slave ship, but I found this instead…look."

Walker squinted down at the tiny viewer, and put his hand over his brow to shadow the sun. He blinked and read aloud, "USS Cyclops." He glanced at Danny. "Looks like a ship alright, kid. Jesus, just how far down did you dive?"

Danny grinned up at him. "Far enough to get some sweet pictures. But that isn't even the best one." He flipped through ten more murky pictures before stopping on one. A whitish expanse of some kind of odd underwater wall was visible in the holo.

Danny's mother leaned in. "What is it?"

"It's the Bimini Road." Danny said proudly.

"Bimini…as in the islands, back over there?" His father pointed across the water to a series of faraway dots.

Danny grinned again. "Legend has it that the Fountain of Youth was located somewhere in the southern Bimini Islands…according to the explorer Ponce de Leon…and others. But no one ever found it."

"What does a mythical fountain have to do with some weird underwater road?"

"Who says it's mythical?" Danny said looking up at Walker seriously.

Walker laughed and clapped the young man on the back good- naturedly. "Okay, Danny, okay."

Daniel Rey studied the holo of the so-called Bimini Road. "What is it?"

Danny looked at his Dad. "No one knows…but it's been there for thousands of years. It's almost a kilometer long. Some say it's made of limestone, but it's also been said that someone built it a long time ago."

"Whoever built it had to be able to hold their breath for a long damn time," said Walker.

Danny rolled his eyes and then shifted his attention back to his father.. "Look, Dad…can I dive just one last time today? I want to try for some more pictures."

His father hesitated, looking out at the horizon where the sun was slowly sinking. "Alright, son, but hurry it up. And be careful, I know you're tired."

The three adults watched as Danny entered the water again.

And it was just minutes later that he came up to the surface, struggling to regain consciousness. His camera was gone. He had resurfaced much too fast, and nitrogen bubbles had formed in his blood on the way back up. Walker would never forget the boy's staring bloodshot eyes, as they administered CPR, gave him pure oxygen and gradually brought him back. But even after he recovered, he never told them what had frightened him enough to abort his dive and forget all of his diving protocols. All Walker knew was that the kid had almost died chasing something own in those depths. That kind of drive was unique and dangerous, especially in such a young person. And so Walker always kept his eye on Danny.

* * *

 **2365 Betazed**

Wesley Crusher sat hunched tensely in the waiting area of the headquarters of Betazed Security Council. His mother was not around to tell him to correct his horrible posture. He was stressed but masking that feeling with boredom. He was intent on replacing the things he really wanted to do with mindless games on his data pad. Two hours ago he had advanced to the supreme level on his holo game, but right now it was a very hollow victory, and hardly even a distraction from real life.

He knew why they were on Betazed; of course to make sure Deanna was alright, but now that they knew she was, what was taking so long? Why weren't they going after Commander Riker? As soon as his father arrived, they could get underway. His heart skipped a beat. He hadn't seen Captain Picard in a few months, and felt a mixture of excitement and fearful trepidation about returning to the _Enterprise_ again. And now Commander Riker—formerly Captain Riker of the doomed _USS Hood_ had been kidnapped and his whereabouts were unknown.

Captain Riker had taken a voluntary demotion following the events of the Borg to focus on his new family, but the rumor was that he might return to the _Enterprise_ as First Officer. Although after learning that Natasha Yar would be joining the crew as Security Chief, Wesley's mother had said Riker had begun to reconsider and had told Captain Picard he would send his answer after the baby was born. But now Riker was gone, and the baby was not yet born. Wesley could sympathize with Riker, as he himself was terrified of seeing Yar again.

His father had explained to him the reasons why she was back, and why she was specifically back on the Enterprise, but deep down, Wesley felt lost and betrayed by the Captain's decision. He didn't understand how his father could have forgiven someone who had done so much evil, all the while laughing at the harm she caused Wesley and the people he cared about. And now they were supposed to work with this person?

Wesley heard a now familiar chatter, and looked up eyes wide to see his mother, Counselor Troi, and Lwaxana appear. He stood up quickly when he realized that Captain Picard was with them as well. He tossed his pad aside anxiously, hoping that the Captain did not notice he had been playing silly games while one of the his father's best friends was missing in action. As angry as he was, he needed his father's approval and love even more than he needed to express himself, so Wesley promised himself that no matter what, he would not let the Captain know how he felt about Yar. Wesley brushed off some greasy breakfast crumbs from his shirt, and stood nearly at attention as the group approached.

* * *

 **A few minutes earlier…**

Picard reached for Beverly's hand and although he immediately felt the electricity between them, he simply gave her a restrained kiss on the cheek. She took his hand and squeezed it tightly and he still felt her eyes on him as he turned to Deanna. His eyes widened. Somehow, he hadn't expected her to be so…pregnant.

"Deanna, I am so glad to see you're well. Don't worry, we'll find Will and whoever did this will face justice."

 _Oh I never knew justice could be so attractive, Little One._

Deanna smiled, and gave Captain Picard a brief but warm hug, all the while ignoring her mother's thoughts. "Thank you Captain. And thank you for agreeing to let us come along."

Captain Picard smiled tightly. "Deanna, I really could not have denied you such an obvious right. Of course you should be with us. But I do worry for you and the baby. Where we're going may be very dangerous."

 _He's ethical and he cares about you and the baby too…who could ask for more?_

Deanna shot her mother a warning look. "Please," she said aloud on accident.

"Hmm?" Picard gave her a puzzled look, just as he felt Beverly take hold of his hand again. He tried to ignore the electricity once more as he turned to Lwaxana Troi.

"Nothing," Deanna answered quickly.

"And you must be Ambassador Troi," said Picard, extending his hand graciously. Lwaxana took his outstretched hand but left hers there limply.

"Oh," said Picard, slightly surprised by such an archaic greeting, but he bent his head to graze the back of her hand lightly with his lips.

"Oh, how ever _did_ you know who I was?" asked Lwaxana.

"Why you're every bit as beautiful as your daughter, of course," said Picard pausing only slightly. His eyes widened slightly as Beverly's grip on his palm tightened considerably.

"Oh, you _are_ a charming man, aren't you?" said Lwaxana. "As I was just informing my daughter—"

"Mother!"

Beverly and Jean-Luc looked between the two empaths with equal confusion.

Picard smiled politely, and wrested his hand from Beverly's as gently as possible. "I hate to be rude, but I'm afraid I need to meet with Starfleet Intelligence before we depart."

Beverly caught his eye. "Jean-Luc…Wesley's here. I'd appreciate it if you would just say hello to him before the rest of us beam back up to the ship."

"Oh, um, of course…" said Jean-Luc, all of a sudden looking and sounding awkward.

 _Good gracious, Deanna, you didn't mention they had a child together. I would never have pegged this one for a father._

 _Don't worry Mother, you are not the only one._

Picard could see immediately that Wesley was as nervous about seeing him again as he was about seeing Wesley. It was a strange feeling as he approached his sixteen year old son, who was standing almost at attention, much like Lt. Yar had been just about an hour before in the transporter room. As he remembered Wesley's well-established fear of Yar, his feelings turned guilty. His guilt lately was especially strong, perhaps due to eleven years of not having to feel any. But he shook off his feelings as best he could and walked closer. Should he embrace Wesley? He wasn't at all certain of what to do. Wesley solved the problem for both of them.

Wesley thrust out his hand for his father to shake, and Picard did, firmly, doing his best to convey all of his affection through Wesley's sweaty palm. Meanwhile he felt Beverly's eyes on him again, although this time, the electricity he was feeling from her was more worrisome than exhilarating.

 _Oh, she wasn't happy with that paltry handshake, Little One. Hot and cold, this one. She's afraid she's going to be raising two awkward teenagers now—and who could blame her? She's afraid he won't be able to equal Jack as a father. My goodness... who is Jack? What a complicated set of relationships. But do you want to know her greatest fear—_

 _No_ _, Mother, I honestly don't!_

"Sir, I'm glad to see you," Wesley said as professionally as possible.

Picard smiled as evenly as possible with three annoyingly perceptive women staring at him expectantly. "Me too, Wes."

A long silence followed, and both Wesley and Picard shifted their feet nearly at the same uncomfortable moment. Nearby, Beverly crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot on the floor in unconcealed irritation.

Rather unexpectedly, Lwaxana Troi said, "Well…isn't that _lovely_! Now that we've gotten all of our pent up emotions and unspoken feelings out of the way, we can _finally_ continue on to the ship." She clapped twice loudly. "Mr. Homm!"

Picard turned in alarm as a giant rail thin humanoid lumbered toward them carrying two immense suitcases. When he stopped next to Mrs. Troi he pulled out a tiny pair of cymbals from his pocket and clanged his fingers together, tilting his head up at the ceiling in an odd manner. Come to think of it, there was nothing that was _not_ odd about this person.

"Hello," Picard said looking up at the unreasonably tall manservant.

Mr. Homm tilted his head back down to nod at Picard, closing his eyes strangely, but said nothing.

Finding there was nothing appropriate to say to that, Picard merely raised his eyebrows and turned back to his son. "I'm sorry, Wesley, but I've got to go and meet with Starfleet Intelligence. We'll catch up later."

Wesley nodded stoically. "Yes, sir."

Jean-Luc looked at Beverly, Deanna, and Mrs. Troi. "Ladies, if you will now please excuse me." He started away from them swiftly.

Beverly leaned into Wesley's shoulder. "Wes, please beam back up with Deanna and Mrs. Troi, and I'll follow you in a little while. Alright?" She squeezed his arm, and he nodded, watching her hurry to catch up with the Captain.

* * *

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Beverly demanded as she fell into step with Jean-Luc.

He glanced at her with clear surprise. "Huh?" Was she angry with him? Briefly he considered picking up the pace, but then wisely reconsidered.

She hooked her arm around his tightly. "I've got important things to discuss with you, Jean-Luc. And after two months apart, you would think you'd have some things to share with me as well."

"Of course, Beverly, but I really do have to go and see Walker now-"

To his surprise, she quickly moved her stance so that she was in front of him, forcing him to stop in his tracks. "Walker can wait…I can't."

Grabbing his hand she tugged him toward a door off of the corridor. Once inside, Jean-Luc noted happily that while the utility closet was cramped, it was just big enough for the two of them. As she hit the door lock mechanism and then pushed him back against the door, he realized that Walker really could wait a few more minutes, and but that he, like Beverly, could not.

"Jean-Luc," she murmured. "You're glowing again."

* * *

As they stood waiting for the transporter beam, Lwaxana Troi suddenly clamped her hands over Wesley's ears. The boy literally jumped into the air, knocking into Mr. Homm who just shrugged.

Deanna jerked slightly herself but then sighed. _Mother, he can't hear them._

 _Yes, well_ _ **I**_ _can. And when I told them to get a room, I didn't actually think that they would._ And as the beam de-materialized the four figures, Mrs. Troi clasped her hands over her own ears, which didn't really help, but at least was effective in conveying her distress to anyone who cared.

* * *

 **Thanks for following this story everyone...hope you enjoy it. -PP**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

 _USS Enterprise_

Geordi was getting nowhere with this counseling session. Counselor T'Sara gazed back at him serenely, with seemingly endless patience. But LaForge was beginning to question whether she was actually listening at all, or whether she had simply put herself into a trance, which convincingly displayed an expression of concern. He'd heard that Vulcans could do that kind of thing.

"Perhaps you are clinging to a false view of what your marriage actually was," suggested T'Sara.

Geordi LaForge looked down at his hands. _Was._ Mark had left him shortly after it was announced to the command staff that Yar, or a version of Yar would be returning to the _Enterprise_ as a crew member. Hard to believe that Captain Picard would make such a decision, but then again, the Captain was still kind of an enigma to him.

For his part, Geordi didn't actually hate Yar—despite the fact that she was mostly responsible for putting him into a coma. It was the fact that he was in a coma for so long that he hadn't witnessed most of the awful things that Yar had done. And by nature, Geordi wasn't the kind of guy who could easily hold on to anger or hatred.

But even if Geordi had wanted to vent about Yar, he couldn't—at least outside a small circle of people. The Captain had forbidden anyone with knowledge of who Tasha Yar actually was, to tell anyone, including Yar about her previous exploits. This made it a delicate dance when Geordi wanted to actually open up about any of his traumatic experiences over the past seven months.

Geordi's now ex-husband Mark did hate Yar. He had never forgiven her for standing by while a Borg drone knocked Geordi senseless in Engineering, and the thought of having to face her again was too much for him. Mark had suggested they move back to Earth, for some peace and quiet, and for a less dangerous life. Mark had never been the type to want to travel the stars until the end of his days, and of course Geordi did not blame him for that. But Geordi _was_ that type. He realized now that he needed adventure, and he needed to find it on board this ship.

So Dr. Mark Cho, as he had gone back to being called, after dropping Geordi's last name, was now an instructor at Starfleet Medical Academy. Beverly Crusher had recommended him for the job, and of course she was still dear friends with Mark. But for Geordi everything about the situation was still awkward. He realized that he had been staring over Counselor T'Sara's shoulder. But the Vulcan counselor didn't mind. He was beginning to learn after the third session with her, that she was a very patient person. She was also brutally honest.

Geordi wondered at yet another of Captain Picard's peculiar decisions; why appoint a Vulcan as a ship's Counselor? She didn't exactly exude empathy—or any other emotion for that matter. But then, she also doubled as Picard's Science Officer, where her talents were probably more appreciated by the crew.

Geordi cleared his throat, feeling more uncomfortable by the moment. "Clinging to a false view? What do you mean?"

T'Sara tilted her elegant head. "You have been…unable to separate a realistic relationship with one based on fantasy. It is highly probable that you idealized your one moderately successful relationship with Mark to compensate for your consistent track record of repeated failed romances."

"Well…I wouldn't say _repeated_ ," said LaForge.

"I would," she replied.

Geordi stared at her for a few more moments and then finally nodded. "You know you're right. Why deny all my failed relationships? In fact, it's one of the things I'm known for around here. Why not just embrace it?"

"I did not suggest that your inability to maintain a stable relationship is anything to boast about, Mr. LaForge."

Geordi stood up and stretched, giving her a big smile. "Yeah I know, but…I feel so much better now. In fact I can't wait until our next session. Thanks, Counselor. "

The Vulcan officer nodded curtly. "I will be here," she confirmed.

* * *

She was clutching the top of his head so tightly that if the rest of his body hadn't felt so good, he might have said something. Gradually though her breathing slowed a bit and she let go of his head and wrapped her arms around his neck. The sound of their breathing was the only thing either of them heard. "I can't believe we just did that," she gasped into his right ear. The light touch of her lips made his skin tingle. "I've never done this before."

"What?" He asked still in a daze. "Oh _this_...well you're very good at it."

She looked at him. "I meant in a utility closet, Jean-Luc," she clarified for him.

"On Betazed," he added.

"You're being very silly now," she said, and kissed him on his temple.

"Sorry," he apologized. "Do you want me to put you down?"

"I don't know," she murmured and brought her lips back around to his mouth. And suddenly there was the real possibility that it would all start up again. He tried to remind himself silently: " _You_ _ **have**_ _to go and see Walker,_ " but not even his mind was into the idea. Suddenly there was a rap on the door. Beverly tensed in his arms, and he leaned forward involuntarily, bumping the back of her head on the door. Her thighs contracted around his waist.

"Ow," she protested in a whisper.

"Sorry," he whispered back.

And then came another, louder bang on the outside of the door.

"Put me down, put me down," she quickly demanded in a suddenly very authoritative whisper. They rushed to untangle themselves.

"Just watch the door," she snapped, pulling her clothes back on as fast as she could. Once they were dressed, Picard hit the door lock and the door opened. Out in the corridor sat a mobile maintenance robot.

"Pardon me, but you are engaged in unauthorized usage of this utility closet," said the robot. "Please cease these activities immediately."

Picard and Beverly edged their way out into the corridor, looking around them, but thankfully there were no actual living beings. Beverly patted the robot on its side with a metallic thud as they walked by it. "Actually we already finished...our activities. Um," she hesitated, turning back around. "You aren't going to file a report about this or anything, are you?"

The robot swiveled its head in their direction and extended a segmented arm holding a data pad in its metal hand. "Please provide extensive detail of your unauthorized activities on this data pad, so that I may produce an adequate report for my superiors."

"That means it doesn't know anything—let's go," Picard said quickly, grabbing Crusher's arm as they hurried away down the hall.

Once they were a safe distance away from the robotic janitor, they slowed their pace. "Look, now I really _have_ to go," said Picard. He reached out to touch the side of her cheek and she blushed deeply.

"I know," she said. "I feel a little guilty that I kept you as long as I did."

"Well…it wasn't really that long," he said with a smile. She laughed, and grabbed for his hand. "We'll still be able to ship out within two hours," he reassured her. "And we'll find Riker," he said growing very serious now. "But you should really return to the Enterprise now."

He smiled again as she leaned in to kiss him gently. "Bye," she said. "I'll see you soon."

* * *

 **A few minutes later…**

"Jean-Luc," Walker said, beckoning him into the interrogation room.

"Walker," Picard said, walking by his friend. Once inside the room the two men regarded each other in silence for a few minutes.

There was something in Walker's eyes that he just couldn't place. Was it wariness? Yes, that must be it. Walker didn't trust him anymore, even now that he had returned from the Q.

Missing was the overly enthusiastic hug Walker usually tried to embarrass him with. This time, Walker didn't even shake his hand, and something within him in a very deep, dark area of his brain said "good". Instead, Walker gestured for him to sit down across from him at the interrogation table. Were they adversaries now? He didn't see at all why it had to be that way. But he knew what this was really about. It was about her: it was about Yar.

"You look well," Walker muttered, as he grabbed a data pad and switched it on. "And totally relaxed."

Picard shrugged his shoulders. Despite the stressful reason for having this meeting, he was completely relaxed, although he had no intention of enlightening Walker as to why. "I suppose I am," he admitted. "Now what do you know about Commander Riker's disappearance?"

 _Straight to the point,_ thought Walker. "I've interviewed everyone who witnessed it," said Walker. "In addition, thirteen customers inside that club took pictures of the events as they took place, once it appeared something strange was happening."

Picard watched as Walker personally surfed through the pictures, stopping at an odd one. He watched Picard's face as he touched the pad and it projected a hologram above the table.

Picard leaned in, looking at a swirling golden energy beam. "That's an Orion transport beam," he said looking at Walker with alarm. The _Enterprise_ had just been in Orion territory investigating that false alarm. And the ship had been tagged…damn, he should have stayed to investigate further.

Walker was impressed. "That was a very quick bit of identification, Jean-Luc. Is that your Starfleet knowledge or your Q memory at work here?"

Jean-Luc scratched his temple and smiled slightly. "I don't have a 'Q memory', as such, Walker. However, I do have a good deal of knowledge that I learned as a Q, and to the extent that a human brain can continue to contain such knowledge, I certainly have done so. Does it really matter how I know?"

Walker smiled back at him. "I'm not sure," Walker said slowly. Then he returned to rifling through the pictures, stopping finally to project another one.

Picard's eyes narrowed. A tall man with shoulder length brown hair and striking green eyes was speaking to Riker. Two other sidekicks held Riker at gunpoint. Riker's face wasn't visible in this image, and Picard was almost glad, as guilt flooded his heart again. He stared into the piercing green eyes again. "I don't know that man," Picard said, rubbing his chin.

Walker shut off the data pad's holo projector. "I do," he said. He hit the data pad again and up came a picture of a younger version of Riker's kidnapper. "Daniel Rey Jr., former special operations agent with Starfleet Intelligence."

Picard perked up. "One of your own?"

"A long time ago. He dropped out, went AWOL about twelve years ago. For a while he was off the map entirely. But then he went rogue and began running weapons, drugs, even people. In the last ten years or so he became a feared criminal, even by the most hardened standards. Later he became a major partner in the Orion Syndicate; changed his name to Marco."

Picard cracked his knuckles. "What the hell does this Marco want with Will Riker?"

"Good question," Walker said. "That's what we need to find out."

* * *

"Your guest quarters are this way," Wesley said, leading Deanna and Mrs. Troi through the ship. "And as Counselor Troi knows, there are comm panels and schematics throughout the ship in case you get lost."

"I'm not one to sit and study schematics all day, young man, but I am sure that if I need help I can count on you," Mrs. Troi said pointedly.

Wesley hesitated in stride. "Um…yes, Ma'am."

"Oh, no need to be so formal, young man! Of course you can call me Ambassador or Mrs. Troi."

"Okay," Wesley said, not sure at all how that would be less formal. Soon after the corridor widened and became less bustling. He halted in and turned around. "Well, these should be it," he said, lacing his hands together in front of himself. He raised his hands. "Just let me know if there's anything I can get you-"

Lwaxana reached out and squeezed the side of Wesley's cheek between her thumb and index finger in the most embarrassing way possible. "Just make sure you come back and visit me as soon as you _can_ ," she said.

Wesley reddened. "Okay. So I should go and see if my Mom is back yet," he said backing away.

"Of course, Wes," Deanna said, putting her hand on her stiff back. "We'll see you soon then."

Wesley nodded and then turned quickly to leave.

 _Poor boy, he just wants to see his mother and little does he know she is engaged in the most tawdry—_

 _Mother!_

 _As I was saying she is doing the most—wait a minute_ …Mrs. Troi glanced with alarm over at her daughter. _She's back on board already!_

Deanna looked down with a small smile. As annoying as her mother could be, she knew that right now she would be incredibly lonely without her. Still she continued to be annoying…. _Thank you so much for the play by play, Mother._

* * *

Beverly was surprised to see Guinan walking down the corridor next to the slim figure of Seth. For a moment her heart got caught in her throat. With some effort she called out to him. "Seth!"

Guinan and Seth stopped and turned around with similar wise expressions. Beverly jogged forward and then broke into a run, colliding happily with the little boy as she threw her arms around him. She buried her face in his hair. "Oh, I missed you," she breathed and then looked up at Guinan with a laugh. "How are you, Guinan?"

Guinan merely smiled.

"Thank you," Beverly said, standing up, but keeping her hand on his shoulder.

Guinan looked at Beverly carefully. "What are you thanking me for, Doctor?"

Beverly looked down at Seth, who was gazing up at her. "For taking care of my son," she said, hugging him closer to her side.

Guinan smiled wider this time. "Of course. It's been my pleasure as he is quite an interesting little fellow. And speaking of sons…." She turned at the sound of running feet.

Wesley Crusher was jogging down the hall toward them. He stopped in front of them, and Seth peeled himself off of Beverly long enough to walk toward Wesley. Wordlessly the boy put his arms around Wesley's waist and stood very still. Wesley laughed and put his hand on the top of Seth's head, before awkwardly patting him on the shoulder.

Guinan glanced at Beverly who looked as though she was going to cry. "It's a wonderful feeling isn't it?" Guinan asked simply.

Beverly nodded, and wiped a tear from under her eye. "Can't believe this is affecting me this way," she said quietly. "So," she said in a stronger voice. "Seth can you show us where we're going to be living?" She smiled at him.

Seth pulled away from Wesley and suddenly froze. His eyes got wide and he bit his knuckles in a peculiar way and then shook out his hand as though it was asleep. "Uh oh," he said.

"What do you mean?" Beverly asked with concern. "What's going on, Seth?"

"Well…we were so busy cleaning up our quarters so you wouldn't be mad that I think Jean-Luc forgot to fix up your quarters across the hall."

"What do you mean our quarters across the hall? We'll just move in with you, Seth," she said.

Seth's eyes got even wider. "Uh oh," he repeated. "I think Jean-Luc made a mistake."

Beverly glanced at Wesley who reddened but just shrugged as though it didn't matter. "Yes," Beverly agreed crossly. "Jean-Luc made a mistake."

* * *

 **Betazed**

Picard slapped his hand on the table in front of him lightly. "Are you trying to tell me that in a bar full of telepaths and empaths we don't have a better idea of Marco's motives? What did the witnesses tell you?"

"The witnesses all said the same thing—he's headed into Orion territory."  
"That's it?"

"That's it," Walker confirmed.

"Well…that suggests to me someone who has immense control over his mind," said Picard.

"And it suggests someone who wants us to know just enough of what he's up to. I think that Riker was taken because of his connection to Starfleet, Jean-Luc. Let's assume that he wants you to follow him…."

"Let's not assume any damn thing, Walker. Let's hear facts. What do you know about this Marco and his motivations?"

Walker shook his head. "Most of what I have is classified, but I'm not even sure it's even relevant to what Danny—to what Marco is up to now." Walker glanced away, his expression somewhat pained. He composed himself and turned back to Picard. "What I can tell you is that in the last year or so, Marco's criminal activities have all but ceased. And, even more bizarrely, so have the criminal activities of his peers and even his arch enemies."

"Sounds good for the galaxy as a whole," said Picard.

"Yes, but _why_?" asked Walker.

"Walker, I don't know what you want me to say. You're the one with the inside knowledge, not me," said Jean-Luc poking himself in the chest.

Walker leaned back in his chair and regarded his friend strangely. "But you still have the Power don't you?"

Picard got up from his seat. "Oh come off it, Walker! Not this again…you and Jack seem to want to remind me constantly that I'm not the same man I used to be. And then in the next moment you are just dying for me to use the power to meet your needs. Well, I'm trying to be a normal person, Walker, I promise you that I am. And whether I have the Power still or not is none of your concern. It is simply irrelevant."

Walker stood up too. "You're not being honest with yourself, Jean-Luc. Have you even thought of Beverly's feelings about all of this?"

"What do you mean?"

"I've known Beverly since she was a teenager, Jean-Luc; a hell of a lot longer than I've known you or Jack. If I—if I had ever had a child I would have wanted him or her to be just like Beverly. That's how much I love her, Jean-Luc."

 _And I love her even more than you do._ Picard sat back down in his chair. "But you don't love _me_ anymore, Walker, do you?"

Walker fell silent. "I wish it were that simple, Jean-Luc."

"Why isn't it, my dear old friend? I'm the same Jean-Luc, after all—"

"Bullshit. You're not the same Jean-Luc. My old friend would have given up the Power long ago. You _like_ having it."

Picard slapped his palm on the table indignantly. "Yes, I do! And what of it?"

"Because it could hurt the people you love—that's why!"

"My power is different now. It is benevolent and only wants to do good. It listens to me."

Walker laughed. "Jean-Luc, do you even hear yourself? You said _my_ power. Does that mean you've decided to keep it for the rest of your life? Have you considered what that might mean?"

Picard merely stared at his old friend. "Are you trying to become my conscience, Walker? Because I already have one of those, thank you."

Walker got to his feet and turned half away from him. "Have you discussed your power with Beverly?"

"Yes, of course. She was worried at first—worried that I might return to the Q. But she knows now that I never would leave her. Besides, there are aspects of it that she… enjoys." He shrugged. "At least I think she does. But mostly, I want her to share in it and to feel safe with me."

"Jean-Luc, she would feel safer with you if you _didn't_ have the power. Don't you see that?"

"No," Picard said stiffly. "I don't."

"The time will come when you have to make a decision. A decision to save Wesley, for instance. How do you think Beverly is going to feel if you save him using the power?"

"But I don't need to use it-I saved Wesley before without even using the power," he replied confidently. "And I saved Jack too…for which he seems less than grateful I might add."

Walker turned and walked back to the table, putting his fists on the tabletop and leaning forward. "What if you choose not to use the power and Wesley dies?" he asked quietly. "What if your limited human powers are insufficient? Could Beverly ever forgive you? Could you forgive yourself?"

Picard got slowly to his feet. "We're friends Walker, but if you ever mention my son dying again, you will be very sorry." Something inside his chest suddenly felt heavy and burned uncomfortably. He broke Walker's gaze, suppressed the feeling and it passed.

"You used to appreciate my honesty, Jean-Luc. What happened?" Walker challenged him.

"What happened? My son was nearly killed, because of my connection to Yar. Because of me! If you think I would ever let that happen again, power or no power, you are very mistaken, Walker."

Walker moved away from him. "Good," Walker said, as though he had resolved a worry of his. And it made Picard boil with quiet fury.

"Are you sure this isn't about your own guilt Walker? I mean, maybe your problem is that you're too busy trying to be everyone's all-knowing older brother. And when one of your adopted younger siblings goes astray—like me, or Danny Rey, you simply don't know how to react."

"Maybe so," Walker admitted.

"Walker why are you beating around the bush here? Why don't you tell me what's really upsetting you?"

Walker looked down at the floor as though he wasn't sure if he wanted to take the conversation there, but then he reconsidered and his words flooded out of him. "Goddamn it, Jean-Luc, I understand now why you brought Yar back into this universe—you didn't have a choice. But why didn't you even consult with me before you brought her back on your ship?"

"Oh so this is what it's about? You wanted me to ask your permission."

Walker shook his head. "I wanted you to talk to me. Like you used to."

"And what would you have said? 'Don't do it, Jean-Luc, she's evil'? Come on, Walker, you know it's not as simple as that. She deserves a second chance—a second life, like I was given."

Walker moved closer to him. "Jean-Luc, when you were out on the hull of that Klingon ship—while Yar was carrying out the murder of Commander Shelby, do you know what I was doing?"

"How could I possibly know that, Walker—"  
"I was snooping around in her room on the _Enterprise_ , Jean-Luc. Like the good spy that I am. And do you know what I found?"

"What?"

"Pictures…pictures of the Power of the Q. Drawn by a _child_ , Jean-Luc."

Jean-Luc jerked his head back involuntarily. "What are you saying?"

But he knew immediately what it meant. He had brought Yar back to the present by causing a Starfleet rescue ship to snatch Yar away from Turkana IV before she could be abducted by the Q that night. In so doing he had changed her fate.

But what he hadn't really considered is that if Yar's childhood experience had been anything at all like his own, she would have been visited by the Q many times as a child. Apparently this is what Walker had discovered. He raised his finger to point in silent accusation at Walker. Finally he spoke. "Why didn't you tell me this before, Walker? Why didn't you tell me about the pictures?"

"At the time, I didn't know everything I know now. And…just like you didn't trust me to tell me you were considering accepting her transfer, I didn't trust you enough to tell you what I'd found."

Picard laughed harshly. "So now I know that my attempts to bring her back with a clean slate were inherently flawed. Maybe she didn't evolve into a power hungry being because she was never actually abducted by the Q, but she still has a memory of this alien power that visited her as a child. This means that if ever confronted by the Power, the chances are that she will recognize it."

"But maybe you're right, Jean-Luc. Maybe even Yar can change."

"You're just talking now, Walker. You don't really believe that. And frankly I'm not sure I do either."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Yar exited main sickbay, shaking off the unpleasantness of the routine physical she'd just undergone. The nurse had been bossy and annoying, and had asked all kinds of questions about her family medical history, which were irrelevant, and for which of course Yar had no answers. She didn't dwell on the subject of her dead parents and preferred not to have to answer questions about them. But then she knew the drill, and could be professional.

She turned at the sound of footsteps and saw two women approaching the sick bay entrance. She watched, as her interest was piqued. She was instantly drawn to the woman with auburn hair, who was quite a bit taller than her raven haired, very pregnant companion. Yar tried not to stare, but she had in the past been led by her physical attraction to beautiful women. It was a personal weakness she was aware of, and tried to work on it. It was her personal philosophy that any and all complications, even the personal kind, could be avoided with the right amount of self control and discipline.

She watched silently as the two women walked into sick bay. _Beverly Crusher and Deanna Troi,_ she thought suddenly as recognition set in from the security files she had diligently studied. The red haired woman turned to look at her, only just then realizing Yar was even there. The expression on the woman's face conveyed such raw emotion that it was enough to make Yar flinch. The woman turned red and quickly ushered her friend in through the doors.

"You must be Natasha Yar."

Yar spun back in the direction she had been walking, her body tensed. A slim Vulcan woman with sharp cheekbones and full lips stood watching her serenely.

"Yes," she said with a lift of her chin. "And you are?"

"I am Lt. Commander T'Sara. I serve as both ship's counselor and science officer." Yar wasn't surprised by this, but found the idea mildly amusing.

"Oh? And why are you sneaking up on me?"

"Vulcans do not sneak."

Yar crossed her arms but just watched her new colleague carefully.

"From a professional standpoint your psychological profile intrigues me," said T'Sara calmly. "So I intended to introduce myself."

"And so you did." Yar gave a half smile as she walked briskly past the Vulcan.

* * *

 **Betazed**

After Walker's revelation about Yar's childhood drawings, Jean-Luc took the data chip Walker had given him with the information, holos, and witness statements relating to Riker's disappearance. He left quickly, and this time he and Walker didn't bother with superficial apologies or goodbyes. They had an understanding. He was still Walker's friend, but things had changed- too many things.

He didn't ask the question that was on his mind at present; why wasn't Walker coming along on the voyage to find Riker, if he was so well-connected to Daniel Rey, aka Marco? But he didn't ask, because he didn't want to take any more time away from finding his missing friend; and also, perhaps he didn't want to hear Walker's rationale. So they simply gave each other a perfunctory handshake and then Jean-Luc left.

At first he walked hurriedly toward the transporter pick-up site. But then he started to grow agitated. Walker's voice drifted in his mind. _"…pictures of the Power of the Q. Drawn by a child, Jean-Luc."_ He ran his hand through his hair and down over his face roughly, as if to sweep out the images and feelings that seemed to cause a pounding pressure inside of his head.

 _"What if you choose not to use the power and Wesley dies?"_ Images of Wesley in the clutches of the Borg Doctor came back to him in flashes, and his breath came more quickly. He was suddenly covered in sweat, but he felt cold. Inside his mind he could hear Wesley screaming as he was being dragged away by the Borg drones. Unconsciously he picked up his pace as he had down on the base, hoping, praying that around the next corner he would find his son. Hearing footsteps behind him he spun around ready to fight, letting out a frightened shout.

He froze as two Betazoid men walked by staring at him suspiciously, and he suddenly remembered where he was. Embarrassed, he loosened clenched fists at his side and shrunk back against the wall, averting his gaze. Waiting for the Betazoids to pass, he walked a little bit further, but inside his mind he could still see Wesley being harmed and crying out for his help.

* * *

He spotted a public bathroom and ducked inside. "Excuse me," he murmured as a man and woman exited, staring at him with both suspicion and concern. He supposed that they could read his thoughts. He rushed to a sink and splashed water on his face, but his skin now felt steamy as though he had a fever. The bathroom was empty now, but he felt so dizzy he didn't dare step back outside. O'Brien was expecting him to check in within the next five minutes.

He went inside a bathroom stall and shut the door standing with his head down. He had to compose himself. What was happening to him? Some sort of panic attack he supposed. How embarrassing. He tried to think it through calmly, but his mind and body were still in a state of high anxiety.

As long as he had this power within him, he would be a draw to anyone who sought it out. And now that he knew Yar had at least seen the light of the Q as a child, apparently many times, how could he be sure that she would not seek it out? What if the power revealed itself to her? What if he had one of his glowing episodes when she was around? Why hadn't Q told him the full truth… the full risk?

 _Go._ He tried to tell the power. _Leave me alone._

In answer he felt the wonderful warm feeling envelope him, but now, he feared its presence. _Please go,_ he repeated. The feeling increased as though trying to convince him that it was of benefit to him. But as much as he cared for it, he knew that as long as it was with him, the people he loved were at risk.

" _You killed my son Jean-Luc,"_ he heard Beverly's voice in his mind. " _I will never forgive you. I_ _ **hate**_ _you."_

" _Go!"_ he screamed out loud, now thoroughly frightened of what the future was sure to bring.

He hadn't heard the footsteps outside of the stall. "Is everything alright in there?" a man's voice asked.

Barely coherent he suddenly ripped off his shirt and began scratching at his chest furiously. "Go! Leave me alone! Go!" He continued to scratch at his chest until he had bloodied himself. Finally he collapsed against the wall, exhausted. Tears forced themselves from beneath his eyelids and he let them roll down his face.

"Are you quite finished?"

He sluggishly lifted his head to find Q standing there. He wiped the tears away from his face with his bloody hand. He attempted to straighten his slumping posture, but any effort to seem dignified was lost on Q. "Is it gone?" he whispered.

Q glared at him disapprovingly. "For now…yes. I do believe you hurt its feelings, Picard. Do you realize how many mortals would _kill_ for what you just injured yourself to send away?"

Gasping, Picard picked up his shirt. He winced as he pulled it over his head, and it caught on the inflamed skin on his chest. He looked down at his hands which were stained in his own blood. "Yes," he admitted, pulling the shirt down roughly. "I do realize that. In fact that's why I sent it away."

"And in the most dramatic fashion. Was self-mutilation really necessary?" Q leaned casually back against the bathroom stall. Suddenly distracted, he leaned down and peered at the toilet with genuine interest. "What a bizarre piece of machinery," he murmured.

After a moment he straightened and frowned at Jean-Luc. "I warned you about the inconsistencies in the timeline didn't I, Picard? You knew the risks of bringing Yar back—"

"But I didn't know that you had done the same thing to her as you did to me as a child. Luring her with a pretty light that fascinated and promised something, an escape from—"

"Spare me the woe is me routine, Jean-Luc. You had all the knowledge of the Q at your disposal when you brought Yar back to the present in this form. A _real_ Q couldn't have done it better. And as for Yar's history, you certainly knew enough that you could have _guessed_."

 _Real Q._ Picard pushed Q aside and opened the stall door. Q followed him out as he walked toward a sink to wash his hands. They each ignored the odd expressions on the faces of the bystanders who looked on curiously.

He looked down at his uniform, and saw that the front of it was stained with his own blood which had seeped through making his uniform an even darker red. His wounds stung, but any physical pain he could have inflicted on himself was nothing compared to his anger at his own selfishness and stupidity.

"Besides," added Q. "No one told you to bring her on board your ship. I was beginning to think you had completely lost your—"

Picard grabbed Q by the collar of his fake Starfleet uniform and shook him, pushing him against the mirror. "Mock me all you want to, you bastard, but if she regains the Power, you won't be laughing for long."

The last of the people edged out of the bathroom, still watching the strange pair.

Q broke into a slow smile. "Such emotion! I'm envious, Picard. Truly. But you know your anger at me is misplaced." His voice lowered to a near whisper. "You know I'm your friend, Jean-Luc."

Picard gradually loosened his hold on Q's collar. He glared back at Q, but he knew it was true. Q was his friend.

"I am the _only_ one who understands you anymore—not even Beverly Crusher can possibly know what goes on inside that tortured brain of yours," he said reaching out to tap Picard on the forehead. "Speaking of Beverly Crusher, what do you think she will say about your masochistic little episode?"

Picard looked down. Q was right; Beverly would be shocked and angry if she knew what he had done to himself. And how would he ever explain it? He looked back up at Q imploringly.

Q reached out to touch his chest quickly and the pain went away. He sighed. "Thank you," Picard said, finally letting go of Q's collar. He moved away from him, leaning against the row of sinks. "Will the Power come back?"

Q shrugged. "The Power is your friend, Picard—just as I am. It won't be gone for long, you can bet. And as any good friend, it may return when you most need it."

"Can I convince it to stay away?"

"Why would you want to? Your strange obsession with returning to humanity baffles me, Picard."

"It's not that—I do enjoy having it around…I enjoy its companionship. But I don't want my family and friends to be harmed by it."

"The Power won't harm the people you love Picard. You know that."

"But Yar…what if she—"

"You made your choice, Picard. You brought her on board your ship. What would your excuse be now if you ordered her transfer? The poor thing might be traumatized, and then who _knows_ how she would react? Given her track record for intergalactic widespread violence, do you really want to take that chance? Anyway, have you considered that it may be better if she stays on board? You can keep an eye on her progress."

"You have a point," Picard admitted.

"Of course I do. I have an infinite number of points, as you well know. I'll see you later, Jean-Luc. And while I'm gone _try_ to keep it together? Au revoir," he said waving his hand before disappearing in a flash.

* * *

 _ **The Enterprise**_

"I'm worried that the stress of Will's disappearance is going to affect your health, Deanna," Beverly said, checking the blood pressure readings she had just taken on her tricorder. She found focusing on her work helped temporarily erase the image of Yar in her mind. "All I ask is that you rest as much as possible, and talk to someone about how you are feeling."

Deanna made a dissatisfied face. "You mean like a counselor?"

"Yes…like a counselor," Beverly agreed with a small smile. "It would be nice to see you have to take your own advice for once and see a counselor."

"He didn't _disappear_ , Beverly; he was stolen away from me. From us," Deanna added looking down at her belly. She reached up to touch her forehead. "I can't believe he's gone, Beverly."

Beverly gave her friend a small hug and patted her shoulder. "I know. But we're going to find him very soon." She studied the readings a few moments longer and then snapped the tricorder shut. "Your readings look very good under the circumstances," Beverly said. "It is _very_ encouraging," she said patting Deanna on the knee.

Troi nodded and stepped down to the floor carefully. "Before Will left, he was going through a difficult time, Beverly. He'd been drinking…and I wanted him to stop."

Beverly nodded and leaned back against the bio-bed. "Shelby' s death wounded him deeply, I know."

"And I know he was out drinking that night—when they took him. I just know that wherever he is right now—he's feeling guilty. And I don't want him to feel guilty, Beverly, I just want him back." Deanna looked away. "You realize how insignificant people's imperfections are once they go missing from your life. Everything else can be fixed. I just need him here with me."

Beverly took Deanna's hand, wishing that she knew what to say. They both turned around as Seth entered the room.

"Seth, honey, I'm working," Beverly said letting go of Troi's hand. She frowned. "And you should be in school."

"Jean-Luc said I didn't have to go to school today," the boy said, climbing up on a bio bed nearby.

Beverly glanced at Deanna and clenched her jaw, feeling her previous irritation with Jean-Luc return full force. "Oh really?"

"Yeah, he said it was a holiday since you and Wes were returning."

"A holiday," she said trying to keep her frown from turning into a smile. "Really." She turned back to the scan of Troi's body which was on the screen in front of her.

Seth nodded. "Are you mad at Jean-Luc?" He dangled his legs off of the bed, bouncing his feet back and forth.

Beverly stopped what she was doing briefly and glanced back at him. "This is nothing to worry yourself about, Seth. It's not your fault."

Seth looked at her. "But you are mad at him."

She paused, aware that he was just going to keep this up, if she didn't answer him. "Yes."

"Why? Because he forgot to get bigger quarters for all of us?"

Deanna put a gentle hand on Beverly's shoulder. "Um, I think it's best if I go. Unless you need me…."

Beverly smiled at her friend. "Okay. I'll see you soon."

* * *

Once Deanna had departed she walked over to sit down next to Seth. He turned to look at her with his big brown eyes. "I don't think he forgot, Seth," she said gently.

The boy looked at her quizzically. "Yeah, but you don't think he did it on purpose do you? I mean, that's just the way he is. He's not good at that kind of stuff. He told me the only thing he's good at anymore is being a Captain."

Beverly rolled her eyes and then glanced away. She didn't want to say anything negative about Jean-Luc in front of Seth. The fact was, Seth was right; this was the way Jean-Luc was now that he had returned from the Q. He had never been an outwardly emotional person, but now he often displayed an insensitivity to, or unawareness of the feelings of others. But she knew he was trying.

She sighed and looked down at her hands. "But I'm also mad at myself," she admitted. "Because we didn't communicate well enough so that he understood me and I understood him. You see I never actually told him that I wanted us all to live together. I just expected him to know…and he didn't. Relationships are difficult. When you get old enough you'll understand."

"I can understand it now," Seth said.

She smiled somewhat taken aback at the thoughtful look in his eyes. "Yes...I see that."

Beverly reached out to touch the back of Seth's neck affectionately, and had moved her palm over his skin lightly, when her hand stopped reflexively. She pulled back and looked at the back of his neck. "Hold still," she said softly. His skin looked normal…except—she ran her hand over his neck again. There was a tiny bump, half the size of a pea just under the skin at the base of his neck, and a dot of red on his smooth brown skin showed irritation.

She'd removed his implants. What could this be? Had she missed one? She looked down into Seth's face and put her arm around his shoulder trying not to alarm him or herself. "Honey, has your neck been bothering you lately?"

He reached back to touch his neck. "Kind of. It itches. Is it another implant?"

An irrational fear began to crawl through her body, but she kept her voice steady. "We'll see. I'll need to run some scans," she said.

Seth hopped down from the bio bed. "I feel fine. Can you do it later?"

Beverly hesitated. "First thing tomorrow morning. Before _school_. Okay?" She touched his cheek lightly.

He nodded. "I'm glad you're back," he said.

"Me too."

* * *

 _ **The Eureka**_

"Starving yourself isn't worth it, Riker. None of those Starfleet prisoner survival protocols apply here."

Will lounged in the armchair with his arms crossed, staring straight ahead, but said nothing.

Marco held a plate of food in his hands, which he proceeded to place carefully in front of Riker. "Those protocols don't apply because I don't need you alive, you see?" He slid a large pitcher of ice cold water and a cup in Riker's direction. "The only reason I am feeding you is because I like you." Marco poured some water into the cup.

Riker reached out and picked up the water. His head was pounding with dehydration and his hand shook unsteadily.

Marco smiled. "Go ahead my friend...don't worry, it's not poison."

Will took a sip of the water and then unable to stop himself, he gulped the rest of it down. Grabbing the pitcher he poured himself another cup of water and then another. Now graced with an even worse headache from the cold water, he bowed his head and waited a few minutes, until gradually he felt better. He looked up at Marco. "This is really getting old, Marco."

"I agree." Marco shrugged and walked away. "If you want to see something a little more engaging, come with me," he offered, standing up.

Riker pushed himself to his feet. His legs were cramping up from all of this sitting still. At least this way, he would be able to see the rest of Marco's ship, maybe get an idea for escape.

Walking out into the corridor, Riker was shocked by the sheer size of the ship. Looking up the ceiling and hull in this area were transparent, and he could see the stars above them. It was hard to gauge size inside a ship, but it seemed larger than the Enterprise. Whatever ship he'd been brought here on was merely a shuttle in comparison. They walked for several minutes in silence. He was unbound with no handcuffs, and he considered pouncing on Marco and subduing him, even killing him. But then what? Starfleet would be sending reinforcements wouldn't they?

"Here we are," said Marco, turning to him with that gleaming smile once more before opening the door. The hallway was flooded by the most wonderful light from within the room and Riker walked inside as if compelled. There were hundreds of people and aliens of all species, laughing, conversing, lounging, eating, napping, flirting and more, inside what appeared to be an elaborate holodeck program. He could see for miles in every direction, and the landscape was beautiful. Blue skies gave way to snow-capped mountains far away. He sniffed in the air, and shielded his eyes taking in sparkling blue lake just steps away. Children swam and played shrieking with the joy of being free. Riker looked sideways at Marco who was staring at him closely. "What kind of program is this, Marco?"

"This is no program, Riker. This is real. Just a taste of where we're headed."

* * *

"This is Captain Picard. All senior staff and Counselor Troi, please report to conference room one immediately." He took his palm off of the intercom pad, and looked down at his uniform. _Damn._ Q had erased the wounds he'd inflicted on himself, but a large half dried blood stain remained. No doubt Q had left it there on purpose to satisfy his warped sense of humor. Oh well, he would have to hope that no one noticed. His uniform was a deep red after all.

He watched as the staff began to file into the conference room. He'd called Troi as well, given her closeness to the situation. He nodded at her as she came into the room. Unfortunately, he had expected her mother to be accompanying her. Troi looked apologetic and mouthed "I'm sorry" to him silently as she and Lwaxana moved to sit down at the table side by side. He was slightly annoyed, but He noticed that the expression on Mrs. Troi's face as she regarded him left him slightly unsettled. It was as though she were…judging him somehow. He took a deep breath and looked away.

Beverly entered the room and walked slowly by him without speaking. He allowed himself only a quick look at her from behind as her hips swayed back and forth in that way that he liked. He hoped that by ignoring him she was simply trying to be professional. He leaned forward slightly, expecting her to turn and nod hello to him, but instead she broke into a quick conversation with LaForge instead who was repeating some kind of joke he had heard. He was jealous at the ease with which Geordi was able to relate to Beverly, but he quickly repressed his annoyance. She finally glanced at him and gave him a slight nod. What had he done? He'd only been out of her presence for an hour, and the last time they'd seen each other, of course things couldn't have been better. Yet now she was giving him a bit of a cold shoulder. He wondered if she knew that when she acted that way it was kind of exciting for him.

Tasha Yar walked into the room and sat down at the Captain's right hand side. She glanced around the table at all of the faces she didn't know. The only senior staff member she'd met so far was Commander Data, who was...interesting, if you found robots interesting. Granted she recognized he was a unique robot, but still….

She'd spent most of her time so far meeting with her security teams. Most of them needed intense re-training, especially in hand to hand combat. She wasn't disappointed, because she thrived on a challenge. She only wished she had the time to whip them into shape before they would be tested rescuing Riker.

She continued glancing around the table. She knew everyone's names and faces from their personnel files. LaForge was a brilliant engineer—recently divorced according to his security file. She decided he was cute, but not her type, although no one was her type for long, she admitted.

The Vulcan science officer entered shortly with perfectly efficient yet graceful steps, and sat down across from LaForge. Yar shifted. She would have to be careful with that one. Lt. Commander T'Sara was physically attractive and withholding, and also gave the impression of thinking she was superior to everyone else there. That kind of persona was both magnetic and irritating to Yar.

Her eyes fell on Counselor Troi and an older woman who was chattering away about something irrelevant to why they were there. She shrugged internally. As long as the woman wasn't a security risk, she didn't care. Counselor Troi on the other hand needed to be kept out of the action and decision-making as much as possible. The Captain couldn't have the emotionally compromised spouse of Riker clouding everyone's judgment about what needed to be done.

Data had entered and sat next to Doctor Beverly Crusher. Yar discreetly studied the woman she had first seen in the corridor outside sickbay. Crusher was very beautiful. Distractingly so...but now that Yar knew who this woman was, and her relationship to the Captain, she knew better than to allow her attraction to cloud her judgment, and more importantly, she knew her place in the ship's hierarchy. Crusher was known to be a highly respected doctor, and as everyone now knew was the mother of Captain Picard's son, Wesley Crusher. Yar hadn't met the kid yet, but there was no room for teenage boys with raging hormones on the bridge of a ship. She hoped it didn't become an issue.

In any case, she was slightly concerned about Crusher's involvement with the Captain, but as long as their personal relationship didn't compromise Captain Picard's safety, Yar would stay out of it. She noticed that Crusher had looked at her only once—and the look had not been friendly. Strange, since she didn't know the woman personally at all. But that was fine, for Yar was quite accustomed to being an outsider.

They were all considered to be the best Starfleet had to offer. She would have to wait and see before cementing her own opinions on the matter. Her main concern was their loyalty to Captain Picard. This was paramount to her, as his safety and well-being were her concern and responsibility.

She glanced at the Captain. He was very stoic, and controlled, as expected, but appeared younger than she had anticipated. The rumors surrounding his sudden reappearance after eleven years still bothered her. She wanted to know more. Rumors about him having been taken prisoner by an alien race made her want to ask him how he had survived alone that whole time. She wanted to learn from him. She saw him glance at her and she looked away, respectfully. She already admired him professionally, but she reminded herself that she was adept at burying any personal feelings she knew could arise while on duty when one was not careful enough.

She looked at him again and this time her eyes fell on the front of his uniform. Her eyes widened in alarm. He was covered in blood. He'd just returned from Betazed, and hadn't checked in with her before starting the meeting. She stood up swiftly. "Captain," she said leaning over him with concern. "Captain, you're bleeding, sir. What happened?" She put her hand on his shoulder.

Down the table, Beverly stood up, pushing her chair out quickly. "Don't you touch him!"

* * *

 **Hello, thanks for reading along, and for your reviews. Best, PP**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

 _ **The Enterprise**_

Picard felt his entire body tense up as it became painfully clear to him why Beverly had been acting so strangely. Of course, she had been managing the stress of preparing to meet Yar again; staring at holos of the woman's face off and on for weeks so as not to be shocked when she saw her again. And now faced with the actual Yar, Beverly had still reacted anxiously to say the least. And of course he hadn't had the time to change his damned uniform, which must have only increased her anxiety. He warmed at the thought of her concern for him. As a Q he had become so used to not caring about others, and believing that no one cared about him, that he still marveled at the fact that she really loved him. But right now, her face appeared more dangerous than loving.

Making a quick decision as to which woman to placate first, he glanced up at Yar. The young woman's expression appeared genuinely concerned and was now tense as she looked from Picard to Crusher and back again.

"It's alright, Lieutenant. I just had a slight mishap down on Betazed-"

"Mishap?" Beverly glared at Jean-Luc and then at Yar who was still standing over Picard. Yar watched her carefully while she waited for the Captain to finish.

"I am quite well I assure you," he continued in his most diplomatic voice. "And you as well, Doctor." He saw her forehead twitch in irritation and the effort of holding back what she really wanted to say. He was quite thankful that they were having this conversation in public. "I am fine," he insisted. "Please sit down, both of you."

"Yes sir," Yar said, complying right away. She looked at the faces around the table and she suddenly realized the source of the strange feeling she had been having. Not exactly _deja vu_ , but something else. They were watching her, waiting for her to act a certain way. Somehow these strangers all seemed to think they knew her. She shrugged it off mentally. Maybe they knew she was from Turkana and were prejudiced. Who knows? If they expected her to be a hot head, she would simply behave in the opposite manner. She had faced these kinds of prejudices before and knew how to manage herself. Absently she placed her hand on her uniform, and felt the key that hung around her neck.

She was careful to keep her facial expression very measured, still aware of Doctor Crusher's eyes boring into the side of her head. She didn't entirely mind the drawing of boundaries. Gilda Stern had raised her to respect boundaries after years of not having any in her life. If the Doctor wanted to make it clear that she was the alpha female, well alright. Ultimately the doctor outranked her considerably. The problem was, Yar could read people, was familiar with the doctor's professional profile, and by all accounts Crusher was not the aggressive type; assertive, yes, but not by any means a loose cannon. Why she would be so upset with Yar, a stranger to her, was a little odd. She glanced away, because instead of the usual aggression she felt when someone confronted her, she again felt the same attraction to the angry woman she had noticed earlier in the corridor. So she chose to respectfully avert her gaze.

Beverly stood her ground, but once Yar had seated herself again, she realized that it served no purpose to press him with questions as to his health. Still, why had he returned from Betazed looking as though he had been injured? She didn't like to be kept in the dark; she wouldn't be disrespected by him whether he meant it or not. "I'd like you to report to sickbay later, Captain. Just to confirm that you're 'fine'," she said stiffly.

He nodded but said nothing.

She didn't care if she had looked a little crazy a moment ago. The rest of the crew would understand her reaction, even if Yar didn't. She hadn't intended to make a scene, but Yar had been so close to touching him, that she had simply reacted. She could see now that Yar hadn't meant any harm. She had just been protecting him, but she had to admit she hadn't trusted Yar around Jean-Luc before, and with good reason. Prior to revealing her intention to steal back the power of the Q, Yar had tried to seduce Jean-Luc on more than one occasion; and he hadn't exactly been resistant. _This is not the same Yar, and he's come such a long way_ , she told herself, and not for the first time. But doubt still nagged at her mind.

Data leaned forward staring curiously at Mrs. Troi. "Ambassador Troi, are you alright?"

Lwaxana Troi was holding her hands over her ears in a very alarming and dramatic fashion. Her eyes were shut tightly.

 _Deanna, you failed to mention how much extra noise would be in this room. Everyone except for the android is sexually frustrated—well he may be, but I can't be expected to read positronic minds…even worse is the anger and fear they are just tossing into the air, all directed at that poor girl—_

 _Mother! I asked you to come to the meeting to read_ _Yar's_ _mind not the rest of the crew's reaction to her. Of course they are angry, and of course they are afraid._

 _But of her? Well, she's just a gorgeous girl, and really clearly very complicated—_

 _Oh yes, very. Now what is she thinking, Mother?_

 _She's…she's a wall…why she's even more difficult to read than Captain Picard. She has a control that she is unwilling to drop for anyone. She has an innocence on one hand and on the other…too many dark secrets from her past. In fact, let's not dig too deep, Little One. Some minds are better left unexplored._

* * *

 _ **The Eureka**_

Riker's eyes fluttered open in the dark. He couldn't see a thing and he also couldn't remember how he had gotten here; not that he was really sure where 'here' was. He knew he was on the Eureka, Marco's immense ship, but he was in a new room, with no guards. The thing was he felt wonderful, more wonderful than he had felt in months in fact. He was lying on some kind of soft material that was cool yet comforting against his skin.

He shut his eyes again and dimly tried to remember the last thing he had experienced. He'd been on the shore of a deep blue lake. The woman had been laughing and singing in an unfamiliar language. "But wait until you see me dance," she had said seductively. "We are known best for our dancing."

"I'd like that," he had said, and she had reached out to take his hand. After that everything had been a blur.

Suddenly his heart sunk with the knowledge that something was very wrong. He had committed an awful transgression, but simply couldn't complete the thought. What had he done? He still felt good physically, but his mind was murky. "Why do I feel this way?" he said aloud in the darkness.

"The disorientation will pass," said a musical voice close to his ear. "And then you will come to understand." Will jumped out of bed, holding the sheet around himself, peering down at the intruder on the other side of the bed.

"Lights," said the voice calmly. The light in the room increased enough for him to see that the woman from the sunlit beach was here with him. It hadn't been a dream after all. She was Orion, which explained the memory of her dancing.

"Oh—oh no," he stammered, running his hand over his face and staring at her in shock. "Who are you? Where's Marco? What did we just do? Wait! Wait, don't tell me what we did," he added quickly. _I'm married, I'm married with a baby on the way…what did I do?_

"I am Samla," said the beautiful green-skinned woman. "And you are no longer Marco's prisoner. This is good, because I could tell he did not want to have to kill you. You don't want to be on his bad side."

"What are you talking about?" he asked still frantically looking around for his clothes.

"You are one of us now, Riker," said Samla confidently. "You have chosen to travel to Eternity with us, and there is no going back now."

He knew he should have been frightened by her words, but instead something inside him began to dance in celebration.

* * *

 **On Board the** _ **Death's Talon**_

"Time to intercept," demanded TuVol from his command throne.

His first officer, Klo whirled around. "Two hours, Commander."

Commander TuVol smiled. It had been his decision to cut through Klingon territory into the heart of the Beta Quadrant. He was certain that Marco had the Jewel of Power in his possession. And when he found Marco he would strangle him to death with one hand in order to get it. Humans were so weak, and Marco was no exception.

That Marco was a charismatic human was of no consequence to TuVol. For TuVol was a Reman, former enslaved member of a race subjugated by the ruling Romulans. But once he had the legendary Jewel in his possession, his people would rise up from the sunless dilithium mines of Remus, and slaughter the Romulan oppressors.

"The Klingons will oppose our entry into this sector, Commander."

"That is to be expected. But they will not stand in the way of our freedom. Soon we will have the Jewel, and Marco will be nothing but a memory."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

* * *

 _ **Enterprise**_

He was developing a plan to recapture Riker, but now that his crew had been briefed and he was off duty for a few hours, he recognized that he needed to attend to his personal problems. So he was headed back to his quarters, where he planned on making Beverly, Wesley and Seth a suitable reunion dinner. Picard turned at the sound of quick footsteps behind him.

"I thought I ordered you to report to sickbay, Captain!" Beverly nearly slammed into him she was walking so fast. She stopped abruptly as he turned to face her.

"I was hoping you had forgotten," he said honestly.

"Well, I haven't." Her face was dead serious, but somewhere he hoped her good humor was not far from the surface. "Besides, I'm perfectly fine now as you can see..." He spread his arms widely and smiled. His smile faded when he saw that she was still upset with him.

She raised her index finger as though she was going to poke him in the chest, but a crew member passed. Instead, she folded her arms over her chest and lowered her voice. "You are _infuriating_. You changed your uniform, Jean-Luc. That doesn't explain why you beamed up from Betazed looking as though you'd gone a few rounds with someone."

"You should see the other guy," he said mildly, having no trouble recalling that the 'other guy' was him.

Vaguely she remembered Jack saying something similar to her after fighting with Jean-Luc, and it only served to make her more angry. "Is that supposed to be funny? I'm not in mood for jokes, Jean-Luc. When I left you down on that planet you were perfectly fine—in every sense of that word."

Her veiled reference to their encounter earlier that day, gave him hope and he leaned in closer. She merely watched him as he cleared his throat and softened his tone. "I _was_ heading back to my quarters…perhaps I could make it up to you."

"I'm not in the mood for _that_ either Jean-Luc," she snapped. "Not until you tell me the truth..."

He stared at her silently. He didn't want to discuss this right now, because he didn't know quite how to explain it all to her without making the situation worse. So he just continued to stand there.

"I have work to do, so I'll be in sickbay."

"When will you be done with work?" He was unable to hide his disappointment.

His face took on the innocent expression he sometimes wore since returning from the Q, and it made her waver slightly. "I don't know. And I'm not in the mood for your games tonight." Now determined to remain angry, she turned on her heel and stormed away.

"I hope you're in the mood for something to eat, because dinner is at seven," he called after her hopefully. But she kept walking.

* * *

 _ **The Eureka**_

"These are your new clothes," Samla told him, handing him a bundle. "If you wish to wear a covering for your skin," the Orion woman added with a smirk.

"I can see clothes aren't exactly a priority for you, Samla," Riker said, taking the clothes from her. She shook her head slowly. "And I realize I just really gave you the wrong impression by sleeping with you. But, I'm married," he added.

She laughed. "And I was once the personal property of an Orion kingpin. But now I am free, thanks to Marco. You can be free too."

Riker shook his head, as though trying to clear it. "You don't get it. I don't want to be free from Deanna, I love her."

"Then let her come along with us. You'll come to see Marco's plan soon enough," Samla assured him.

He shook his head again but began to dress, feeling so incredibly calm. He should be trying to escape. But he wasn't sure he wanted to anymore. And the sudden change in thinking should have really thrown him. But it didn't.

After he had dressed, Samla led him down the long main corridor and in to an immense room which he saw was a library of some kind. Riker looked down at the shiny stone floor as his soft shoes made a pleasant flapping sound.

"Welcome to my archives, Riker," Marco said, his voice echoing from the center of the room.

"Why are you showing me this?" Riker staggered slightly and then leaned against a very tall set of bookshelves to support himself.

"I couldn't trust you earlier, because you didn't' trust me—not after what I did to capture you. I had to make sure you were receptive, Riker."

Will leaned into the bookshelf. His whole body felt heavy, but inside of his mind he could gradually feel things beginning to sort out.

"Receptive?"

Marco studied him closely. "Don't worry, as I'm sure Samla told you the disorientation will pass eventually. Soon the effect will begin to take hold."

"What effect will take hold? Have you drugged me?"

"No," said Marco. "I am afraid what you have is much longer lasting, Riker." He smiled, and then turned back to what he had been staring at. He took a few steps away and Riker now saw that Marco was standing inside a huge floating star map.

He reached up to touch one of the pinpoints of light. "As you might have guessed, we're inside the Beta Quadrant, which as you know still has many unexplored little corners, Will." He turned back around and fixed Riker with a curious stare. "You don't mind if I call you Will, now do you." It sounded more like a declaration than a question.

For some reason, Riker now felt compelled to answer "No…I don't mind."

"Good," Marco said, turning back around. "A long time ago, Riker, when I was just a kid, I encountered a magnificent treasure."

Riker walked forward. Something within him was telling him that Marco was being truthful. "What kind of treasure."

Marco's eyes glinted. "A beautiful treasure. I hid it away, inside something which I thought would always be in my possession. But that possession was stolen away from me Will. I can tell by the look on your face that you understand me."

Will nodded. "But what have you done to me? Why do I feel this way?" he asked.

"The means I use don't matter—it is the wonderful end that I seek. The most important thing is that you will begin to see things my way, Will. And if you are loyal, I will grant you eternal life."

 _Eternal life._ Marco's words echoed through his mind. It wasn't something he had ever wanted before. But now he felt differently.

"How—how could you do that? You're just human, like me."

"Have you ever heard of the Fountain of Youth?"

Riker nodded and walked closer looking up into the map. "An old Earth myth."

"It's no myth, Will…but the fountain didn't originate on Earth. It's here," he said reaching up and touching the same point he had before. In this star system deep inside the Beta Quadrant—beyond Orion territory."

Riker followed the man's gaze. "Virtually unexplored by Starfleet," he murmured.

"That's correct."

"So what good am I to you?" Riker asked, perplexed.

"You've already served my purpose. The Enterprise is on its way," said Marco. "And once it arrives to try and recapture you, I will reclaim what's mine."

Marco's smiled faded and he quickly paced away. "But we do have a sight problem, Will."

"Picard?"

Marco smiled. "No. There are others…dangerous types who don't like me so much. You see they know about my property and want to take it from me. They want the potential power it possesses, Will. And if they get to the _Enterprise_ before we do, there could be trouble."

"So why don't you just go after the _Enterprise_?" Riker asked.

Marco shook his head. "No, it has to be done a certain way. This way. Will you help me? Will you do as I say?"

Something inside him compelled Riker to nod in agreement. "But…Deanna. I mean I have a wife, and I love her. She's going to have a baby." More and more he found it difficult to speak for his own interests, as though many more voices were crying out for him to agree with Marco, and to follow him. He swept his hand over his eyes. Why had his desire to escape the ship now left him?

Marco shut off the map and now it was just the two of them. Riker could see that Samla had slunk out of the room unnoticed.

"Deanna and your child are quite welcome on the journey with us Will. But if she tries to interfere with my plans, you must know that she will suffer very dire consequences. Do you understand?"

Riker smiled easily then, suddenly a changed man. "Yes."

* * *

His quarters were dark. And he hadn't expected Wesley to be there.

"Where's Seth?" he asked.

"He's on the holodeck walking Marca," said Wesley, not bothering to look up. "She wouldn't stop barking at me when I walked in the door this afternoon."

"Oh." Picard hesitated at the door. "She'll get used to you again, you got along so well before." _Before_. He tried to remember how he had managed to successfully interact with his son before, when all of that turmoil had been happening. Then he remembered Beverly telling him to "just talk" to Wesley, and that she was concerned about him.

He approached quietly and sat down next to Wesley, folding his hands in front of him on the table. "Hello," said Jean Luc, thinking that might be a decent start.

Wesley still didn't look up from the point on the table he was staring at. "Hi."

Picard tapped his fingers on the table top. "So..." He ventured after a few more moments of silence.

Wesley glanced up at him and then activated his data pad silently.

Picard leaned down to peer at a spinning diagram on the screen. "What is that you're studying, Wesley?"

"It's a schematic of a phase coil. Geordi asked me to take a look at it and see if we can improve site to site transporter function around the ship."

"Oh, well I recall an engineering symposium I attended when I was in –well it was some years ago. And-"

Wesley tensed his shoulders visibly and shifted in his seat. "Just stop..." He murmured under his breath and then froze looking petrified.

"Hmm?" Picard straightened and looked at his son. "Stop what?"

"Nothing, sir," Wesley said.

"Wesley...what we're you going to say?"

Wesley put down the data pad and looked at him for the first time. "Could you just stop trying so hard?"

"What do you mean? It's no effort to talk to you. You're my son, after all."

"Yeah, but you don't like engineering, or astrophysics or anything like that...it doesn't interest you. You don't have to pretend sir."

"But it does interest me," he insisted.

"Hmm," Wesley said, sounding remarkably like his mother.

Picard sighed and stared across the room, unable to win with the Crushers this evening. He was silent for a few more minutes, as Wesley studied his project. "Did I ever tell you about the time I stood in the center of a red dwarf star?"

Wesley sat up sraight. "Holy sh—I mean, _what_? You mean when you were with the Q?"

Picard smiled and leaned in. "It's the most common type of star, but how many people have ever had the chance to stand inside the core of one?"

Wesley laughed. "No one. Until you," he said with open admiration. Any awkwardness between them was gone for the moment. "So what was it like?"

The both looked up when the doors opened and Seth and Marca walked in. "Hey," Seth said.

Picard waved him over exuberantly. "Let me tell you both about the star. Then you can help me make dinner."

* * *

 _ **The Death's Talon**_

The Reman religion had foreseen such an event. Little did the Romulans know that TuVol had located the source of a magnificent power that would be their undoing. And TuVol would be the one wielding that power, once he wrested it from Marco's grasp. But now the rumor was, that Marco no longer had possession of the Jewel. TuVol had never had a reason to trust the word of a Ferengi...until now.

"We've picked up the signature again, identified by the Ferengi Trader," Klo shouted. "But it's not with Marco…it's on a Federation ship. They are on a course for Orion territory as well My Lord."

"Very good," Tu'Vol rasped, slammed his spiky fist down on the arm of his chair. "Initiate the cloaking device and fall into pursuit. Once in range, we will engage a surprise attack. I have never had the pleasure of killing a human before."

The perimeter alert suddenly sounded with a wail. "Klingon transport passing through this sector, My Lord. It will intercept us in two minutes. It has minimal armaments."

TuVol pointed at the weapons officer. "Then they must not care if they live or die. Prepare for attack on my command."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

* * *

 **A Short time later on the Klingon Home world Qo'nos** **...**

"The Romulans have refused to take responsibility for this attack on our people."

"Of course they have," the chancellor replied evenly.

Chancellor K'mpec studied the tall officer in front of him. The chancellor had been strong once a long time ago-but he'd never been tall. Just one of many regrets. The young officer standing in front of him was bound to go a long way, as long as he eventually learned to pick his battles, that is. And so far, he was apparently still learning that lesson. "And for once the Romulans are telling the truth, Commander Worf."

"The invading ship _was_ a modified older version of a Romulan scout ship," Worf agreed. "The ship's weapons appeared to be comprised of weaponized mining equipment. Too unorthodox and crude to be sanctioned by the Romulan High Command. However, the weapons used were... effective."

Kmpec smiled and picked at a bowl of dark red tree serpent eggs balanced on his armrest. They were raw and slightly rotten; just as he liked him. Why oh why couldn't this young Klingon go away and leave him to eat his lunch in peace? "Worf, why did you come here today?"

"That rogue ship has killed Klingons, Chancellor. It must be stopped."

" _Prisoners_ , Worf…that rogue ship destroyed a ship full of prisoners that got in its way."

"They were _Klingon_ prisoners," Worf growled.

K'mpec sighed. He didn't give a damn about a ship full of prisoners. "Has Krala put you up to this?" the old Klingon asked tiredly. Krala, Worf's domineering wife and first officer aboard his ship was as highly volatile as Worf was honorable.

Worf slammed his fist against the wall. "I make my own decisions!"

"Such fire, Worf. Trouble at home?" Worf was known to have a dominating mate, and apparently did not appreciate the gossip. "Word is that Krala's father was on that prison ship, Worf. Her father was a prisoner…one of our most dishonored former citizens, Worf."

"Yes, Krala's father was one of those killed. But the most important thing is to avenge the fallen, Chancellor."

"No."

"Let me take my ship, and I will hunt down the Romulan criminals who did this."

"I thought we already established the Romulans are not behind this."  
"We can't be sure of this, Chancellor."

"Worf, according to our spies, the Remans have attempted a revolt against the Romulans. A band of them led by someone named TuVol are on a mission to kill every Romulan they can. The Remans are quite fierce, Worf."

"If they are so intent on destroying the Romulans, Chancellor, why are they passing through our territory killing Klingons, instead of back in the Alpha Quadrant?"

K'mpec leaned forward. "Because rumor has it they are after something very powerful, Worf; something to help them gain a foothold against the Romulans."

Worf's eyes narrowed. "And by doing nothing to retaliate, you hope to allow them to succeed. How many more Klingons must die at the hands of these—"

"Commander Worf…I will not authorize you to hunt these Remans down, and that is final. You would be wise _not_ to disobey me."

* * *

 ** _The Enterprise_**

 _"Red alert,"_ said the computer.

"Enemy ships incoming," reported the officer at the helm.

"Raise shields, initiate evasive maneuver, Code Yar alpha one," ordered Yar.

"Aye sir."

"Firing phasers," Yar said, staying calm and in her element. She glanced out of the corner of her eye, not unsettled in the least by Commander Data standing still nearby.

"The lead ship has sustained damage," said the helm officer. "But we have two more ships headed our way."

"Change course to 2 mark 421," Yar snapped.

"The enemy is firing," reported Lt. Commander T'Sara calmly.

"Direct hit," shouted the helm.

"Shield strength is now at seventy percent," said T'Sara.

"Divert power to the forward shield emitter," ordered Data calmly.

"Firing photon torpedoes," Yar said tightly.

 **"** _Intruder on the bridge."_ the ship's computer suddenly droned **.**

"This is Lieutenant Yar," Yar said hitting the intercom. "Code blue…send two security teams to the bridge immediately. Repeat, code blue."

"Enemy reinforcements incoming," said the officer at helm.

"Shields at fifty percent," T'Sara warned.

Just then the turbo lift doors opened and the security personnel rushed in, phasers drawn.

"End program," Data said, standing with his hands still draped behind his back. The red glow on the bridge lifted abruptly and the lights returned to normal.

Yar spun around to point in the face of the lead security officer. "That was _four_ seconds slower than the last time," she snapped. "There was an intruder on the bridge. The Captain could have been killed because of your delay."

"I'm sorry, sir—"

"I don't want excuses, I want _better_ results," she snapped.

The officer straightened at attention.

Yar ignored the nervous ensign and paced away quickly, before turning back around with an intense expression on her face. "Now...we are going to run the drill again, and this time, I expect—"

"Lieutenant, might I speak with you for a moment?" Data interrupted politely, stepping forward.

Yar stopped her diatribe in mid-sentence, and turned to look at Data with apparent surprise. "Yes, of course, sir," she said stepping away from her officers

T'Sara turned to observe the expressions of the security team, and noted that they all visibly relaxed once Yar walked away.

"Lieutenant," Data said, lowering his voice slightly in order to be discreet. "You have run this training scenario eight times over the last hour. I have been observing closely, and the crew _is_ operating within acceptable parameters."

Yar shook her head. "Sir I know we can do better. If we are to recapture Commander Riker, we've all got to do better than just acceptable."

Data nodded almost imperceptibly. "Agreed."

 _Good then._ Yar nodded curtly and started to turn away.

"Lieutenant Yar," said Data firmly. "I agree with you that the crew could likely improve its performance, however I cannot agree to any further training programs at this time. We have other business to complete."

Yar clenched her jaw, but straightened looking straight ahead. "Aye sir." She felt her face grow hot, unable to fee anything but the eyes of the bridge crew on her. Laughing at her, no doubt.

"You were scheduled to be off duty an hour ago, Lieutenant," Data continued placidly, unaware of Yar's inner fury. "Have you not considered that your own performance would improve if you were not fatigued?"

 _Fatigued!_ Yar stepped forward now with increased intensity. "Sir, I don't get fatigued—not as long as I have my focus. Permission to remain on the bridge, sir…."

Data shook his head. "I am afraid not…you are dismissed, Lieutenant."

Yar clenched her fists at her sides for a few more moments, before something in her intense gaze cooled slightly. "Yes, sir." Then she walked quickly away and into the turbo lift.

* * *

To Tasha Yar's consternation, Lt. Commander T'Sara followed behind her.

Did she have to take _this_ turbo lift? Yar stared at the lift wall, still angry about what had happened on the bridge. She shouldn't care what anyone else thought, but she had been embarrassed by her inability to keep her anger in check.

"Deck 10," she snapped.

The science officer regarded her with a strange expression. "It so happens that I am going to Deck 10 as well, Lieutenant."

"That's nice," Yar said in a voice that made it clear she didn't like coincidences.

"I am going to Ten Forward. Would you like to join me?"

"No," said Yar bluntly. "I'm going to find a holodeck and get some exercise in before I can go on shift again," she said. She couldn't wait to fight an imaginary opponent, or several. She had a lot of negative energy to expend. Something about Commander Data's quiet insistence that she leave the bridge had really pissed her off, and she couldn't pinpoint why. He hadn't meant any harm. He was an android after all. She tried to tell herself to calm down, but she didn't appreciate the way he had undercut her in front of her subordinates. The security team had been four seconds slower, and her officers needed to know that just wasn't good enough. In a real life situation, the Captain could have been injured or worse.

"Most officers who had been on duty for thirteen hours straight would welcome a two hour break," observed T'Sara.

"Most officers aren't me," Yar said confidently.

"That much is quite clear." She looked directly at Yar. "As you are aware, I am the ship's counselor," she said. "In addition to my science duties on the bridge."

Yar eyed her without speaking, not sure where this was specifically headed, but not liking the general direction. This woman was her superior in rank, and she had to be careful with her temper.

"I have been observing you, Lieutenant—"

"You've been observing me?" Yar now found herself smiling guardedly, but she was less than amused by this revelation.

"Yes. And you may have an un-diagnosed personality disorder…perhaps post-traumatic stress disorder as well," said the Vulcan in her characteristic straightforward manner.

"Are you offering your services?" Yar asked coldly.

"I am."

Yar pointed at herself. "Your observations may be correct, _Counselor_ …but this, all of this, is the way I am. I don't change. And I like it that way. So I strongly recommend that you stop your observations of me. You might not like what you find." The doors opened and she exited the lift without another word.

* * *

"Dinner is at seven," Beverly muttered testily, staring at the scan on her wall monitor. "He thinks he can resolve everything by feeding me, well, we'll see about that. This had better be a damn good dinner," she touched the wall making the scan larger. The fact was his ploy probably would work. She loved food, and he knew this. As if on cue, her stomach growled. She sighed. It wasn't practical for her to go on a hunger strike; so instead she would just try and communicate with him.

They had been away from each other for years, then together—sort of- just a few months- and then apart again for the last few months. They had been in love for years and never learned to communicate. In fact what they understood best was how _not_ to communicate, as they had hidden their feelings for so long. Although...sometimes she wondered if he had held any feelings for her at all while he was a Q, or had he only loved himself-or nothing at all?

She tried not to dwell on such questions as they didn't really matter anymore. What mattered was the here and now. And the here and now was highly confusing. In one moment he made her feel so excited for the future and in the next he was closing her out and keeping secrets. Sometimes that hurt, but it only made her stubbornly want to try harder to make things better between them. She knew it was a process, but with his return from the Q continuum they had been given a second chance by fate, and she wasn't going to give that up.

But with his new...eccentricities for lack of a better word, he was sometimes more of an enigma than he had ever been. There was some carelessness about him now that hadn't been there before; those Q-like aspects, which were now interspersed with his usual seriousness. On the bridge and on duty he was more or less the same; but elsewhere he was unpredictable, difficult, moody, thoroughly amusing, and at times just plain weird. He was learning to be Human again, and at times he was not unlike a teenager; a teenager who had recently been equipped with super human powers and nearly omniscient intellectual capabilities.

To some extent she feared the fact that the Q power was still hanging around him. As much as she knew it was a source of comfort to him-even an odd friendship she couldn't quite comprehend, she was not able to drive from her mind the horrible events from just months ago. When Tasha Yar had tried to lay waste to everything around her just to obtain what Jean Luc had. And then to Beverly's dismay after defeating Yar cleverly and bringing her back, in order to give her a chance to redeem herself, he had decided to accept her request to transfer to the Enterprise.

She would never understand why he had done it. What would have been the harm of making up some reason to deny the request? It seemed to her to be an egotistical and risky choice that the pre-Q Jean Luc would never have made. He had always believed that he knew best, but something about being with the Q all of those years had cemented that natural confidence she had always found so attractive into occasional arrogance. She had challenged him on it; of course it was her job to do so...to protect her family from whatever dangers lay ahead. She knew that he too would do whatever was needed to protect Wesley and Seth, but why make the job harder?

Now distracted from her work, she flushed, remembering their encounter down on Betazed. She had gone so many years not really enjoying sex with Jack, that she had forgotten the benefit of a healthy physical relationship. She had to admit that in that way she and Jean Luc were more than compatible. She was beginning to grow annoyed with herself that she couldn't seem to stay angry at him, when he more than deserved her anger. But then she closed her eyes momentarily and was rushed back to that wonderful feeling….

With all of her concerted effort, she shrugged off these distracting thoughts as she traced her hand along the outline of the body scan. It was Seth's most recent scan after his last implants had been removed just several months ago. Despite her professional capacity to compartmentalize her emotions and worry when it came to illness and injury, she'd never forget her revulsion at first pulling Seth out of that strange incubation chamber on the Borg planet.

And each time she had to perform a surgery to remove another of the implants she found that instead of becoming callous to the procedure she was struck by his courage and calmness in the face of what he had been through. And she found that she began not just to care for him, but to love him as though he were her own son. She studied the area of the scan at the base of his neck, but could see nothing out of the ordinary. But there hadn't been any visible implants there—perhaps that is why she had initially missed the strange bump on his neck. But increasingly she believed that the tiny bump had developed in the few months since she last treated him.

She thought about the guardianship record Jean-Luc kept in his quarters after receiving it from Starfleet Medical on Earth. According to the record, his father was human, and his mother was an "unknown species". Seth looked human enough, but something about him was certainly different, although she hadn't known him before his mother had been murdered in front of him on the Marca II colony by Borg drones—before he himself had been kidnapped and assimilated by the Borg.

Her scans of his internal anatomy showed possible variations from the human form, but she had been so busy doing multiple surgeries she hadn't thought to test his genetic makeup. And maybe at the time, it hadn't mattered to her. But what if this was an illness specific to his species, or was some kind of genetic mutation? She took a deep breath and massaged the back of her neck. Whatever it was, it could wait until tomorrow morning, she told herself.

* * *

He met her at the door of his quarters. Music was playing; some kind of 20th century jazz, Will Riker had procured for him somewhere.

"Do you like the music?" he asked with a charming smile. "It's Benny Golson."

"Yes, I love it. Listen...Jean-Luc, we really need to talk."

He smiled and took her hand. "But surely you'd like something to eat first, Beverly. You've said before that nothing soothes your irritation like a good meal—"

She brought her index finger to his lips. "Jean-Luc, because I appreciate that you and the kids made me dinner, I'm declaring a truce. So you can stop trying to ply me with food. I'll eat your wonderful meal, and then we'll talk about our issues. Alright?" she said smiling sweetly now.

His face fell. "Alright," he said. She was still annoyed with him, and as a result he found he too was annoyed. "What issues?"

 _Truce, Beverly_ , she reminded herself. "What issues?" she repeated, looking at him closely. Was he pulling her leg? No, he was totally serious. He had no idea why she was so annoyed with him, which only made her more annoyed. "How about our living arrangements, Jean-Luc? How about those issues?"

His brow furrowed. "Living arrangements?"

 _Stupid truce._ She raised her hands in front of her. "You see? That is _exactly_ what I mean when I say 'issues'. You just don't seem to get it that—"

"Mom," Wesley called out suddenly, deliberately trying to divert her attention. "Dinner is ready."

* * *

"This is delicious," Beverly admitted. "I can really feel the love coming through this meal," she managed through a mouthful of potato.

"The Captain wanted us to put all of your favorite foods out for you, but we wanted it to fit all on one table…so that wasn't possible, but we tried our best," Wesley said with a smile. He was in a better mood than he had been before the Captain had begun to recount some stories from his experiences as a Q. Having everyone together again felt really good, actually.

Beverly stopped eating momentarily at the sound of sloppy chomping from beneath the table. She leaned over. "Does she have to do that here?"

"She likes to eat with us," Seth said, glancing under the table at the dog, Marca. Marca had grown so big that she barely fit underneath the table lying down.

"Right," Beverly said, resuming her feast, ignoring the dog's hot breath against her ankles. She glanced down the table at Jean-Luc. He was wearing his reading glasses, which of course he didn't need and wore only for affect.

Once he had learned that she found them attractive, she noticed he pulled them out strategically, as if playing some kind of high card. But right now he was studying a tiny floating star map. He hand rested on the stem of a half empty root beer float. A single raw carrot lay on his plate. Apparently he wasn't eating what they were eating.

"Jean-Luc, can you put your work away, please?"

"Hmm?" he looked up, over his glasses at her. He pointed at the map. "I'm studying these Orion trade routes…."

She tried not to smile. "I know. But could you put your work away while we eat?"

He nodded, and shut down the hologram. "Of course. I didn't intend to be rude." He sat back in his chair, looking mostly pleased with himself. "How is everything?" he asked.

"Great," she said. "The salad is delicious. Aren't you eating anything besides that root beer float?"

Picard glanced at Seth and Wesley and then back at Beverly. He gestured down at his plate. "And this carrot," he said quite seriously. "I'm also eating this carrot." For emphasis, he picked it up and took a loud crunching bite out of it, before placing it back on his plate.

Wesley suddenly snorted with laughter. "Is that supposed to be healthy or something?"

Picard scratched the top of his head. "Yes…."

Seth's eyes narrowed and he began to laugh too, covering his mouth to prevent food from falling out of it. "Is that how you used to eat when you were a Q?"

Picard leaned back in his chair and sighed, feeling outnumbered. He tapped the carrot on his plate. "I didn't eat while I was a Q. There was no need," he added.

"Yes, but now there is a need," Beverly said. "You need food to survive. Is this how you've been eating while I've been gone?"

"Maybe a little," he murmured, glancing sharply at Seth, hoping the boy would keep quiet as to the number of floats he was drinking each day.

Beverly shook her head, but then stared at Seth, who was now oddly poking at a baked potato with a small stick. "Seth, what are you doing?"

"Jean-Luc makes me use chopsticks to eat unless I'm eating soup," said Seth, finally spearing the potato and carefully lifting it into the air before lowering it onto his plate. "He says it improves my hand eye coordination and mental acruitty."

"Acuity," corrected Jean-Luc, from down the table. "Mental acuity."

Beverly briefly put her forehead into her hand. "What?"

"He's right," said Wesley. "It takes more skill and concentration to use chopsticks than a fork."

Beverly placed her own fork down on her plate. "But he's only using one chopstick," she said. "To eat a potato! How is this more intelligent?" She looked around the table as though she were the only sane person left.

"Well he's reached an advanced level now," said Picard looking rather proud. "Surely one chopstick is more impressive than two."

Beverly muttered something under her breath, but returned to eating the rest of her fish and vegetables. She glanced up again at Jean-Luc. She hadn't noticed before that he had cut his hair. "You're hair looks good," she said. "In fact you look very handsome. Should I compliment Mr. Mot?"

"No, but you can compliment me," said Seth. "I cut it for him."

She put her fork down again. "Jean-Luc, you let Seth cut your hair?"

"You said yourself he did a good job, Beverly. Besides, the boy's got wonderful hand-eye coordination," Jean-Luc said stubbornly.

"Did you use one chopstick or two?" Wesley laughed, shoving Seth playfully.

"I used scissors, and a razor," Seth said seriously, looking up at Wesley.

Wesley laughed and leaned his elbow on Seth's shoulder. "I know, I'm just kidding, man." Seth broke into a slow smile.

They all fell silent for a few more minutes. Will's jazz played softly in the background.

"I'm an alien," Seth blurted out suddenly.

Beverly's eyes widened slightly and she put her water glass down. She thought back to the debate she had been having with herself in sickbay. "What do you mean, Seth?"

Picard looked at him too. "Do you mean you _feel_ like an alien?" Because he could relate to that feeling.

"No. I am one. Like Guinan. She said I was like her."

"Seth, maybe she meant you were a good listener, like her," Wesley suggested.

Seth shook his head from side to side. "Nope. She knew my mom when she was younger. They were friends. I'm half El-Aurian. Isn't that cool?"

Wesley looked at his parents and then back at Seth. "Yeah…it really is. Right?" he looked back at his parents. They merely nodded, but appeared to still be thinking things through. Wesley shrugged and got up from his seat. "Seth, would you help me clean up?"

Suddenly the ship shuddered under foot, and Wesley staggered, grabbing for the table. _"Red alert, Red alert…_ " announced the computer.

 _"_ _Data to Captain Picard. Captain, report to the bridge, we are taking on enemy fire."_

* * *

 **Hey, thanks again for following this story. I hope you enjoy...Peace out-PP**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

 **The Planet Ferenginar**

"Grand Nagus, I ask for your esteemed blessing," Val said, bowing his head before approaching the Nagus seated in his ornate chair.

"As you beg for my money. Tell me, what goes through the mind of a non-entity like yourself before coming to see the Grand Nagus? You aren't even a Daimon."

Val rubbed his hands together. "But with your support, Grand Nagus, I will bring to the deserving few, eternal life, and as a beautiful consequence, eternal wealth."

The Nagus leaned forward, flapping his wrinkled lobes at the young Ferengi. "What are you talking about?"

"In my travels as one of our most successful arms dealers, Grand Nagus, I have encountered a human named Marco. He used to be a member of the Orion Syndicate."

The Nagus sneered. "Humans? They don't even want wealth, you fool. And you're listening to a Human? Fool…."

"Our old beliefs state that once we die we can bid for a new life at the Gates of the Divine Treasury, Grand Nagus."

"I'm familiar with religion, Val…although I don't put too much stock in such things."

"But, I tell you, your Excellency, that this human has found a way to access these riches without dying first."

This made the Nagus pause. If there was anything he loved more than latinum, it was the idea of a latinum-filled eternity. "And what makes you think he would give you the key to such treasure?"

Val grinned. "I think I can make a deal with him. And then…eternal wealth will be ours."

The Nagus rubbed the bottom of his giant earlobe. "What do you want?"

Val shrugged. "Just a ship."

"You'll have the ship, now let us talk terms."

* * *

Beverly touched a communications link on the wall. "Crusher to sick bay."

"Farmer here," came the immediate reply.

"Felix, you just heard the announcement."

"Yes, Doctor, we're under attack. We're preparing for casualties per emergency protocols."

"Good." Crusher hesitated. "I'll be here with my kids. But keep me informed if things escalate."

"Understood, Beverly, and don't worry, Doctor Selar and Alyssa are here and we've got things under control."

"Thank you...Crusher out."

She turned to Jean Luc and he smiled encouragingly at her. "I'll be back soon to finish my carrot."

"Sure you will," she said moving in to give him a quick kiss. "And we'll be fine here."

He nodded and without another word headed for the door, patting Seth quickly on the head and nodded to Wesley. But as the doors shut behind him he found that Wesley was still with him. He noted with alarm that the boy was pale and breathing shallowly. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

"Sir..." He reached out and grabbed Picard's shoulder in a death grip.

"Wesley? Wes, it's going to be alright." He tried to gain eye contact with his son, but the boy had a faraway frightened look. Suddenly Wes leaned his forehead against Picard's shoulder, going almost limp. He was mumbling incoherently. "Dad," he said quietly. "Dad, don't leave."

Picard hugged Wesley tightly. It was the first time he had called him "Dad" as that had always been reserved for Jack. While he didn't care if Wesley continued to call him "Sir" for the rest of his life it was still nice to hear.

"Wesley, I'm coming back," he promised gently. "Tell me what's wrong...please."

"What if...what if it's the Borg," Wesley said all in a rush. "I wouldn't know what to do. I'm afraid," he admitted.

"Wesley, you may not believe me, but I'm afraid too. Fear is very natural, but we cannot allow it to control us. But whether it's the Borg or someone else, I'm going to keep us safe." He pulled back holding his son by the shoulders. "It's just another problem to be resolved. Do you trust me?"

Wesley nodded, looking less scared and now just mortified. "Yeah."

"Good. Now I have to go, but I know that you and your mother and Seth will be able to keep each other safe. Alright?"

"Alright," the teen agreed, watching as the Captain hurried away down the corridor.

* * *

Something wasn't right. A few minutes ago, she'd left Deanna who was headed to join Beverly Crusher and her sons in their quarters. She had left them only because she believed she needed to communicate with _someone_ on this ship who would listen to her. Now Lwaxana Troi ran through the halls of the ship, her elaborate gown flowing behind her. She thought she was headed for the bridge, but the blasted computer had steered her wrong at one point. She absolutely could not _stand_ the voice of that computer; so condescending...

The deck seemed to tremble in anticipation of something horrible, echoing the unsteadiness inside her mind. Whoever was attacking the _Enterprise_ was desperate for something they believed was on the ship. And they had relentless and powerful minds, possibly with telepathic properties. And so she ran in desperation, quickly growing out of breath, but still careful not to allow her expensive gown to drag on the deck.

Suddenly some doors opened to the side and the young blond woman from that horribly awkward staff meeting rushed out. She was wearing a tank top and sweat pants and although hurried, seemed very confident.

"Oh, Lieutenant," she called out, already having forgotten the woman's name. "Lieutenant! Wait, please!" She grabbed the hem of her skirt, hurrying to catch up to the long-legged officer.

The woman slowed, and turned to glance back at her. _This is probably how she talks to her maid._ "Madame Ambassador. We're under red alert, and you should really get back to your quarters where it's safe—"

"Dear girl—" Lwaxana grabbed Yar's bicep. She was rewarded by a mental wave of aggression she couldn't possibly have believed was hidden behind the young woman's carefully kept exterior. Yar's expression remained unflappable as Mrs. Troi let go of her arm with a gasp.

She brought her hand up to her chest, trying to recover and hide her shock at the brief glimpse into Yar's psyche. She would have to stall, in order to regain her bearings. "My goodness, you're solid as a rock," she said gesturing at Yar's physique. "I keep telling my Deanna to start a workout regime, but of course she _is_ nine months pregnant. But that's only a temporary condition. Perhaps you could give her some pointers-"

Yar was watching her with quiet impatience. "Mrs. Troi, I have to get to the bridge where I'm needed."

Lwaxana's gaze fell to Yar's necklace, where a strange small key hung. "Oh how unique," she said reaching out to touch the key with genuine interest. Yar's hand came up quickly to grab the key tightly in her fist, and she back-peddled away from Mrs. Troi.

"Wait—wait…I'm sorry, Lieutenant…um—"

"Yar," said the young woman. "Lieutenant Yar. And you're Ambassador Lwaxana Troi. Notice how I didn't forget your name?"

Lwaxana tilted her head trying to show some compassion. "I'm sorry I'm just horrible with names. Not the best trait for a political ambassador, I know. But I'm sorry, Lieutenant, I simply didn't realize you had such an aversion to being touched. You must have had just an awful upbringing—"

"On Turkana IV," said Yar coldly. "Right? Everyone thinks I'm some kind of thug or reprobate because I grew up on Turkana. Well, I'm a survivor, that's all. Aside from that, I'm just like anyone else," she said with only a hint of pride.

Lwaxana smiled gently. "Of course you are dear. I meant no offense at all. Now, seeing as we are under emergency alert, or whatever you people call it...would you pass along a message to the Captain?"

Yar nodded.

"Please tell him that the aliens who are trying to attack this ship want something they believe we have. And they won't stop until they have it."

* * *

The ship shook repeatedly on the way up to the bridge, and then trembled so violently that Picard stumbled onto the bridge when the lift doors opened. Tactical was manned by an inexperienced ensign. Where was Yar? He tried not to let his imagination get the best of him. Surely, she had a reason not to be here.

"Report," he snapped, as Data jumped to his feet out of the command chair.

"The ship was cloaked, Captain. Romulan in origin, but substantially modified," he said indicating a schematic on the chair's armrest. "The immediate problem is that we are trapped. Surrounding us are cloaked mines. Therefore, we cannot simply escape."

"How the hell do you know they're out there if they're cloaked?" he demanded.

"They are covered in trilithium resin, sir. Highly volatile, but detectable."

Picard rubbed the top of his head. _Dammit._

"They are also firing disruptor blasts which appear to be of expected frequency for a Romulan scout, but look here, sir," Data pointed at the screen.

Picard frowned. "What the hell kind of weapons are those? Looks like some kind of drill assembly," he murmured. He tapped the screen and the schematic turned. "Their shields aren't impressive, though." He glanced up at Data. "Have you tried to hail them?"

"Yes sir, they responded with a volley of disruptor fire, and then discharged the strange pulse weapon they are currently using. It is quite powerful."

They both glanced up as Yar steamed onto the bridge. She was in her workout attire, but was calm and appeared ready for action. Which was good, since they were already in the thick of it. She immediately began working at tactical. "Captain, Ambassador Troi claims the attackers want something we have."

"Such as what?"

"I don't know, sir. She wasn't too specific. She just said they wouldn't give up, sir." The ship shook again as if on cue.

"Evasive maneuvers," said Picard, still standing next to his chair.

"Bring us around at 06 mark 242 and fire a spread of photon torpedoes."

"Mark," said the helm.

"Fire," said Picard.

"Direct hit, sir," Yar reported. "They've sustained seven percent damage to their shields, Captain."

Picard tapped at the armrest again. "Commander T'Sara,"

The Vulcan turned from her post at science station one. "Yes, Captain?"

"Launch a series of empty probe casings toward the mines—begin with those farthest away from us, so we don't get blown to bits," he said. "Let's see if we can detonate some of these mines and clear a path out of here."

Suddenly there was a low hum and a red wave of energy rolled through the bridge. "Status!"

"We're being scanned, Captain," Yar shouted.

* * *

Beverly sat cross-legged on the floor in Jean-Luc's quarters. Seth sat next to her with the side of his head leaning on her shoulder. He seemed mostly calm. Mrs. Troi had just burst back into the room, and had settled down next to Deanna, who was propped up on some pillows on the couch. Wesley was standing nearby, gripping his tricorder and looking very agitated.

When the red beam entered the room, Lwaxana was the first to shout in alarm. Beverly stood up, and watched as the beam passed through Wesley's body and then her own. Then it hit Seth, but instead of passing through him it hovered there. She pulled him by the arms, trying to move him out of the beam, but his body had gone heavy. "Wes!" she shouted, and Wesley was at her side, trying to move the little boy, to no avail.

Seth's eyes rolled up in his head, and he fell to the floor, beginning to go into a seizure of some kind. His body began to jerk to and fro as Mrs. Troi rushed over with the med kit. "Hold his shoulders," Beverly shouted at Wesley, who knelt, complying.

* * *

On board the _Death's Talon_ Reman Commander TuVol clasped his hands together. He pointed at the screen where the Enterprise floated. "The Jewel is on that ship. Increase the resonator beam. Attack their dilithium chamber. Prepare boarding parties."

"Are we still being scanned?"

"Yes," said Data. "The scan has moved to the decks below us, Captain. It appears to be a harmless sensor sweep."

"Captain," Yar said with alarm. "A second ship is de-cloaking!"

* * *

All eyes fell on the forward view screen. Picard's heart jumped immediately and this time with joy. Finally some good news. "It's a Klingon attack cruiser," he said with relief.

"Captain they are hailing us."

"On audio only," Picard said.

" _Captain Picard, this is Commander Worf."_

Despite the circumstances, Picard broke into a smile. "Worf, you always have such good timing."

" _Captain, we have been following the enemy for four hours now. These are not Romulans, they are Remans."_

Picard's smile was immediately erased. He was aware of this offshoot of the Romulan species from his days with the Q. They were known to be masterful warriors, who were also the underclass of the Romulans.

"Explains the mining weapons, but little else," said the Captain.

"What's a Reman?" Yar demanded.

If Worf recognized her voice he didn't let on. " _The Remans are expert miners of ore, particularly dilithium,"_ explained Worf. " _They have a weapon that will shatter your dilithium core. This is what is causing your ship to vibrate. You must divert shield power to protect your warp core or your ship will be destroyed. However once your shields are diverted they will drill into your ship and board it."_

"Meanwhile what do you intend to do?" asked Data.

" _We will attempt to bombard them with our proton torpedoes, while taking out some of those mines, but our ship has been weakened by engaging them repeatedly over the last several hours,_ " replied Worf.

"What do they want?" Picard staggered as the pounding throughout the body of the ship grew more unbearable.

 _"Our intelligence has it that the Remans are searching for something they believe will free them from the rule of the Romulans. Whatever it is they believe it to be a powerful weapon. If they intend to board your ship it may be because they believe whatever they want it is on board the Enterprise. Did they scan you_?"

"Yes," said Picard.

" _They are desperately searching for a very powerful item. And they will kill everyone on board to retrieve what they want."_

"No they won't," said Picard grimly. "Because I won't let them. Besides we don't have what they want."

 _"Perhaps the key is to convince them of this, Captain. They are very single minded. In any case, if we work together, we won't have to talk to them at all if we destroy them."_

"Thank you Worf, we'll take your advice about the shields and then contact you again. Meanwhile good luck to you," he added. "Enterprise out."

He stood up and turned to look at Lt. Yar. "Well? Can it be done? Can we shift power from the deflector array and generate a shield to guard the core?"

Yar's hands flew over the controls, as the shuddering continued to reverberate through the starship. "It hasn't been done before sir, but I'm going to try. All we need is something in engineering similar enough to a deflector array and we should be able to accomplish it."

He tapped his communicator. "Commander LaForge, the Klingons tell us the attacking ship is going to try and shatter our dilithium framework, and by extension our warp core. They have weapons originally used to locate and fragment dilithium ore."

The engineer paused over the intercom, perhaps visualizing his beloved warp core being smashed into pieces. " _Well, we have the power grid down here in engineering, and enough electro plasma to create a self-contained shield around the core if it can be stabilized."_

"We can't leave the rest of the ship defenseless," Yar argued from tactical.

"It would be possible to maintain minimal shielding and still divert power from the deflector shields to the power grid," offered Commander T'Sara.

Data nodded. "But this would be most effective using the plasma conduit transfer—"

"Good, good, let's make it so then," Picard cut in quickly. "We're running out of time." Another blast shook the ship. "Helm take us 10,000 meters away."

"Aye sir. Enemy ship is in pursuit."

"Fire at will."

"Firing sir," said Yar. "Three direct hits sir. We've weakened their shields." Picard settled back in his command chair. Yar had a clear talent for targeting while on the run, which was very lucky for them. Unfortunately he knew they would need more than luck.

* * *

"Seth…Seth can you hear me?" Beverly was trying to stabilize him, but his body continued to seize. His eyes stared into the distance. Afraid he would choke, she turned him on his side and that is when she saw that the base of his neck was glowing ruby red. Frightened, she grabbed him into her arms. "This thing scanning him is killing him," she shouted. "We have to find a way to stop it."

Wesley was busily working on his tricorder. "I'm looking for a way," he said. "I'll find a way," he assured her.

* * *

 _"_ _Captain, the plasma shield emitter is ready to go down here in engineering,"_ said LaForge. _"Whenever you're ready,"_ he said.

"Proceed immediately then, Geordi," Picard said.

On the view screen, the enemy ship moved in closer, all the while being fired upon by the Klingon cruiser. A swirling beam suddenly emitted from the Reman ship and began to bore a hole into the hull of the Enterprise, just as Worf had warned. The Remans were trying to drill a hole in order to board.

"Shields are minimal," Data reported.

"Compensate with whatever we have," Picard ordered. "Fire at will."

 _Have we avoided the destruction of our warp core, only to be destroyed in another way?_ Picard thought darkly. For the first time since he had been without it, his mind strayed to the Power and wondered for a moment just why he had given it up.

"Hull breach on deck fourteen," reported T'Sara. "A plasma fire has ignited on deck thirteen."

"Send emergency crews to the afflicted areas immediately," Data said into the intercom.

"Try and put some distance between us and that ship!" Picard yelled.

* * *

A massive shuddering crunching sound reverberated through the ship. Data looked up from a science station. "We are too late, Captain. We have hull to hull contact. The Remans are attempting to board."

" _Intruder Alert on decks 23 and 24,"_ reported the computer.

"This is Lieutenant Yar to security. Send security teams to decks 23 and 24. Use extreme caution to avoid civilian casualties. Captain, permission to-" She cut off as three crouching shapes materialized on the bridge, rushing toward Captain Picard.

Picard ducked as one Reman swung a thick metal pole with a sharp end over his head. He crouched and grabbed a small phaser from underneath his chair, firing on the Reman point blank. The Reman disintegrated, but then another came, just as Yar was vaulting over the tactical station. She caught one of the charging Remans in the chest with both of her feet, and then rolled to the deck, coming up firing. Data swiftly grabbed the third Reman, who pulled out some kind of electrical prod, which froze the android in place. Not hesitating, the Reman grabbed Picard by the neck and lifted him into the air, barking something harshly into a communicator around its spiny wrist. Yar leapt onto the intruder's back and then all three were swirled away in a transporter beam.

* * *

 **Hello, thanks, I appreciate your reviews, and for continuing to read. -PP**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

* * *

 **2355 Refugee Camp Somewhere in the Alpha Quadrant**

Even laying on her narrow cot, through the tent flap she could see the glowing holo banner advertisement that had been posted for two days now in the center of the encampment.

 _"Escape your troubles, and head to the Federation frontier for a new start on Marca II! Shuttle trips to begin regularly soon."_

She looked down at the one-month old baby next to her. "We'll leave here soon, don't worry," she whispered. "As soon as you are strong enough to travel."

The long knife glinted in the darkness, as a shadowy figure stepped into the tent. "Long time no see, Adrena," said the scruffy looking man, continuing his approach. His gravelly voice and hard appearance were unfortunately very familiar to her. There was a time when she would not have worried at an unsolicited visit from Caine. But now she wasn't in with Caine and Marco anymore. And with good reason, for now she had a child. Someone to protect.

She sat up, moving the baby behind her. "What do you want, Caine?"

Her one time colleague laughed. "It's not what I want, Adrena, it's what Marco wants. You should know by now that it's always about what Marco wants." He nodded at her. "Quit stalling and hand the kid over."

She shook her head with slow deliberation, trying to formulate some kind of plan. She would have to kill him, that was the only way. "What does he want this time?"

"What's the matter, can't read my mind?"

She watched him cautiously. "You knew I never could," she said. His response was merely a cold smile.

"Well...Marco says to tell you, he just wants to spend a few days with his son...then you get him back."

She quickly got to her feet, but her limbs were relaxed, ready to fight.

Caine stepped back warily, still holding the knife in one hand, now pulling out a small pistol with his other hand. "Why doesn't anyone ever take the easy way?"

"You think I'm going to be easy and just let you take my baby?"

Caine's eyes narrowed. "You know he actually told me to offer you credits for the boy?" He broke into a slow smile. "But I know you...and you'd rather die wouldn't you?"

Adrena steeled herself for the anticipated attack. Caine paused almost thoughtfully, then struck at her with his elbow. As she stepped backwards to avoid it, he lashed out with the knife. She caught his wrist, turned the knife in toward him, and thrust upward. Caine screamed and fell backwards, the hilt of the knife now protruding from his eye. The beam of the pistol seared through her leg, and she fell to the floor. She saw Caine scamper forward and scoop the baby up in one arm. She was getting up again, when the side of his boot connected with her temple and she blacked out.

When she woke up, the tent was covered in blood and her baby was gone. Remembering Caine's promise to return her child, she remained in the camp, allowing the medics to heal her leg wound, and recuperated. About a week later, she woke up early one morning to find that the baby was next to her on her narrow cot. Overjoyed to find he had generally been well-cared for, she noted he had a tiny red dot on the back of his neck, which the camp medics could not diagnose, and which eventually faded over time. Every night thereafter, she whispered a promise to him that they would never be apart again. A few weeks later they departed for a new life on Marca II.

* * *

 **Present Day**

He was lying on his side with his hands and feet bound. He was alert enough to know they must have been brought on board the Reman ship. The side of his face was swollen and painful, but he could move his jaw. He felt around his mouth with his tongue and was pleased to find his teeth still intact. Shutting his eyes tightly, he remembered he had promised Wesley he would be back.

It was nearly pitch black, and he couldn't see much around him in the room. _Remans hate the light_ , he recalled. He blinked a few times, patiently waiting for his eyes to adjust a bit more.

Gradually he was able to see a figure lying still, not far away from him. Was Yar still alive? "Permission to do what?" he asked the darkness.

He heard the side of Yar's boot scrape the floor. "Sir?" She replied groggily. "Are you alright?"

"Yes...what did you want permission to do before we...ended up like this?"

Tar coughed.

"Well?" he prompted.

"I was going to ask you if I could leave the bridge, sir."

"Why?"

She was silent for a few moments.

"If we were anywhere else, you wouldn't have so much time to _think_ , Lieutenant," he reminded her. "So... why did you want to leave the bridge?"

"I wanted to lead the security teams to the Reman boarding points, sir."

"Why?"

"Well, as chief of security sir-"

"That's not the real reason and you know it. Now tell me the truth, or face a formal reprimand." _If we ever get out of his damn hole alive._

"I like to fight," she admitted after a few more moments.

"I see," he replied without judgement. "Well you got your wish then didn't you? Hmm?"

"No sir." She sighed in frustration. "I didn't want us to end up here, Captain."

"But we _are_ here. And we're alive, Yar. And in keeping us alive, the Remans have made a grave mistake."

Yar laughed. It was the first time he'd heard her laugh since she had him pinned and near death on a bridge on the Borg home world. _No, not this Yar,_ he told himself. She sounded the same, yet different. Her laugh was hard, but not cruel. She was seeking something from him. Perhaps approval? Perhaps a camaraderie she had yet to find in her young, difficult life.

He assessed his injuries more thoroughly. He recalled that he'd been struck in the face, lifted by his neck, which was now extremely stiff, and kicked in his back. By the feel of it, directly in the left kidney on which he was now laying. "Are you injured?"

"No sir, I'm fine." In fact she'd sustained a blow to the head, but she was coming out of a haze now. Talking to the Captain had helped. She struggled to get up, but her hands and ankles were tied together. _Damn._

"Lieutenant," he said. "I need you to follow my lead. No sudden movements with these Remans."

"Understood," she said simply.

"Have no doubt, they intend to kill us, once they have obtained what they want."

"What do you think they want, sir?"

"We'll see..."

There was a scratching noise, and a hidden door opened abruptly. Three shadowy hunched figures moved almost silently into the room.

There was a grace beneath what Picard knew the Remans wielded outwardly. As a former Q he could appreciate everything about the Remans, including their intellect and struggle against Romulan oppression; but as a human, he was shocked by their stark brutality. And he was frightened about what they could potentially do to his family and friends on the _Enterprise_.

"Can you see me, humans?" The voice was so deep it sounded distorted.

"Yes," Picard lied. A shadow moved quickly next to him, and a spiny hand was suddenly around his neck, lifting him up. It must have been the tall Reman from the attack on the bridge. He stayed limp in the alien's grasp, and in the next moment he was thrust against the wall.

"Cut their bonds," said the leader. He felt his hands and feet freed, and felt the tingle of blood re-entering his extremities. "You cannot see me," the voice confirmed.

"But I can smell you," Picard reassured the speaker.

The grip of the Reman stooge tightened around his throat, and involuntarily turned his head to the right. He heard a person gasping for breath, and knew that Yar was next to him, standing up against the wall, where a third Reman was holding her.

"Turn on the lights," said the leader, and a deep red light filled the space. It was in no way bright, but he could now see the Remans and Yar clearly enough.

"Now, humans, you will tell me where you have hidden the jewel."

"How do you know I haven't already gotten rid of it?" Picard said, not having any damn idea what this "jewel" was.

The leader moved forward until his monstrous face was just inches from Picard's. "Where is it?"

"Get your soldiers off of my ship, and we can talk," said Picard. "Until then, you get nothing from us."

The leader drew a long thin spike of metal from his waist and pointed it at Picard's head. "I am ignorant of human physiology. You are the first I have met." He quickly put the tip of the spike against the top of Yar's forehead, just under her hairline. Her eyes shifted toward Picard, but she remained stoic.

Picard tried to maintain eye contact with her, as a thin stream of blood began to trickle down her forehead. Like him she was unable to loosen herself from the Reman guard's grip.

"How much pressure is required to induce death?" The Reman commander said. "I am very curious to discover this fact."

"Leave her alone, she knows even less than I do," said Picard.

"I am TuVol," said the Reman. "And I do not take directives from Romulans...or Humans. You will give me the jewel's location, or this young human will die."

Picard could see panic cross Yar's face briefly, then the stoic expression returned. Inside him he began to wonder if it was possible to get out of this alive. "Let her go," he said again," and gripped the Reman's thick wrist, as the grip tightened again. He choked, and then loosened his grip. "I don't know where the goddamn jewel is!" He rasped. "You've attacked the wrong ship TuVol...we can't help you."

TuVol pulled the spike away from Yar's forehead and placed it underneath her chin. "What is the most painful way for a human to die?" he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

Picard was beginning to panic inwardly, and very quickly a warm feeling spread through his chest. It was happening whether he wanted it to or not. It was happening. A white flash burst from his chest and the room was flooded with the same brilliance multiplied over and over. He shut his eyes, as the Remans screamed. And then in the next moment he and Yar were standing in the middle of Ten Forward.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

* * *

 **Just seconds earlier suspended in time...**

 _"We hope your injuries will not be too painful, Jean-Luc. We wanted to heal you, but we are understanding of your secret. Your human crew would be suspicious if you arrived back on your vessel unharmed. We have tried to be discreet."_

 _"What have you done? She's seen you now." He knew the power had just saved his life, so he couldn't be completely outraged, after all._

 _"We can easily wipe Yar's memory of the event, Jean-Luc," the power responded. "But we could not allow that nasty Reman commander to murder you."_

 _"Yes...you saved my life. And Yar's...thank you."_

 _"Do you wish me to wipe Yar's memory? We feel quite uneasy about her."_

 _"Who is we?"_

 _"We are the Power."_

 _"Oh...alright. Well, no. I don't want you to wipe her memory of what just happened. First of all, she tried to prevent my capture, and risked her life to save me. Secondly...what happened, simply happened. Who is to say I have the right to manipulate her mind or her life?"_

 _"You already have, Jean-Luc."_

 _"No. I manipulated the life of a different Yar in a different universe, under completely different circumstances."_

 _"And we will be forever grateful to you. You will always be our friend, Jean-Luc."_

 _"And I yours...but back to Yar. Do you fear her?"_

 _"We trust you Jean-Luc, and the decisions you have made. But the whole future cannot be known. Q knew this when he assisted you with Yar's resurrection. Now her future still remains uncertain. And the more we observe her, the more we believe her fate is intertwined with your own. Be careful, Jean-Luc."_

He blinked and turned to Yar, who was standing next to him holding her forehead. He grabbed her wrist. "Let me see," he pulled her shaking hand away and a rivulet of blood streamed down from her scalp where she had been sliced by the Reman blade.

"I'm fine," she said woozily.

His lower back ached from where he had been kicked by the large Reman guard. Despite his own discomfort he put a reassuring hand on Yar's shoulder. Unfortunately it had the opposite effect, her muscles tensed under his palm. "Easy," he said. "We're safe now, Lieutenant." His jaw was swelling and he found it painful to speak.

She looked at him hesitantly. "Sir...what just happened?"

He folded his arms and looked at her closely with a serious expression, no longer intending to reassure her. "Lieutenant Yar, it is crucial that you do not reveal to anyone what you just observed."

She stared at him silently, listening.

"What you saw, what allowed us to transport here instantly is highly classified, and was-is a...a side effect of my abduction many years ago-"

"Sir." Yar interrupted him. "You don't have to tell me anything. I won't say a word." It was that simple for her, it seemed. What he had done to inspire this kind of loyalty so soon after they had met, he had no idea.

He nodded. "Good." He saw her gaze turn immediately suspicious, and realized she was looking over his shoulder at someone else. He turned to see Guinan casually wiping down the bar.

"Sir," Yar's voice had dropped to a whisper. "She must have seen us, sir. She needs to be debriefed."

Picard gave the young officer his most fatherly smile and put his hand on her shoulder. This time, she didn't tense up. "Guinan," he called out. The barkeep looked up and connected with his gaze. "Did you see us come in?"

Guinan paused briefly in her cleaning ritual. Her expression was perfectly innocent. "You mean through the door? No, I guess I missed you. But then, you're here now," she pointed out.

"Yes," said Picard, glancing at Yar. "And now we're on our way to sick bay. Isn't that right, Lieutenant?" Yar stiffened. He could see she hated being ordered to sick bay as much as he did. Possibly more. Strangely that made him smile.

* * *

 **Just minutes earlier...**

The lights had gone out once the intruder alert sounded, and several screams sounded out in the hallway. Waves of security teams raced through the corridor, chasing whoever or whatever had boarded the ship.

Beverly hugged Seth tightly to her on the floor of Jean-Luc's quarters, while Wesley stood nearby holding his tricorder. While the red beam continued to hover over Seth's body, he had managed to disrupt the beam enough that its intensity had abated.

Lwaxana Troi pointed at the doorway frantically. "They're outside! Whatever they want is in here."

"Shh!" Beverly grabbed Wesley's hand from her seated position. There was an odd scratching at the outside of the door, and deep voices barked orders in an alien language. Then something heavy slammed against it.

"Wesley, bring me the phaser in my desk drawer," Beverly said quietly.

Suddenly there was a muffled cry outside in the hall, and the beam hovering over Seth disappeared with a bright flash, releasing him. Beverly continued to hold him tightly, but rose to her feet just as the lights came back on.

 _"Attention crew...this is Commander Data. The Reman ship has departed the sector, and security personnel report that the Reman soldiers beamed off of the Enterprise without warning. A ship-wide yellow alert will remain in effect until further notice."_

Was Jean-Luc still on board the Reman ship? She couldn't think of this possibility without freezing in place, so she decided to keep moving. She gestured to Lwaxana and Wesley. "Help me get him to sick bay," she said, lifting Seth up.

* * *

"He's stabilized now, but still unconscious," Beverly said, trying as hard as she could to sound professional. She reached down to touch Seth's wrist. His pulse was strong but his breathing was still shallow. His eyelids fluttered as though he was dreaming. She hoped he was not frightened.

Next to her Felix Farmer shifted his feet and glanced at Wesley who stood in the corner looking absolutely lost. "Why don't you let Dr. Selar and I take care of him? You're too close to this, Bev."

She took a deep breath in, trying not to let her anger at her own helplessness overcome her medical sensibilities. She looked up at her friend. "You're right...but it doesn't matter. He's my son, Felix." _If only Jean-Luc were here...he would be able to reassure me...but the Remans are gone, and they've taken him.. Surely Data is going to track them down._

"It's going to be okay, Mom," Wesley said, as if reading her mind. He put his arm around her shoulders.

She grasped his hand. "I hope you're right." She turned to kiss his cheek. At least I know I'll always have you to rely on Wesley. Do you know how much that means to me?"

Wesley saddened at the tears welling in her eyes. "Mom, I know he's coming back. He always does."

"The boy is right. I'm back now."

They turned to see Picard standing in the doorway. It was clear he had already seen some medical attention, because he had a dermal repair module along his jaw line.

Beverly rushed to him, grabbing him tightly in a hug.

"Oof," he said, and she let go of him, assessing his injuries with her trained eye.

"What happened to you?" She demanded. He opened his mouth to speak, but she shook her head. "Never mind," she said kissing him gently on the lips. "You came back to me."

* * *

"Such a frail piece of machinery, the mortal body," Q said. "Imagine being incapacitated by a simple thing such as a bruised kidney."

Picard shifted on his side and looked up at Q's floating disembodied head, hovering over his couch. "I don't have to imagine it, Q, I am experiencing it right now," he grumbled. He took off his glasses and set them down on his book. He sat up and leaned against the back of the couch. "What do you want?" he asked impatiently, but slightly groggy from the painkiller Beverly had given him.

Marca lay next to the couch at his feet and Wesley had retreated into his quarters across the corridor to "rest". He had tried to get his son to talk to him about what happened to Seth while he was with the Remans, but Wesley had been pale and tightlipped, even seeming to be angry at him. He supposed he would have to ask Beverly for her advice later.

Q's head floated lower down next to Marca's sleeping face. "What a fascinating creature," said Q. The dog opened one bloodshot eye and curled her lip slightly, showing her white teeth.

"Leave my dog alone, Q…now what do you want?" he repeated.

Q's head floated abruptly up into his face. "Not that close," Picard said, jerking backward.

"You're a very particular person, Picard."

Picard smiled. "I know."

Q's head nodded downward. "Why do you wear those ridiculous contraptions over your eyes? Surely you're eyes haven't devolved that much since returning to humanity just months ago."

Picard smiled again. "Beverly likes them. She says my glasses are sexy."

"Well…she's wrong—they're ridiculous."

Picard picked up the glasses and put them back on deliberately. "I think I will trust Beverly's judgment over yours in this instance."

Q's head bobbed up and down. "Suit yourself. Now, to business….The Q have been observing Yar so far, and we've learned something interesting."

"What?"

"She may prove to be more like you than you expect, Picard."

Picard shook his head, remembering what the Power had told him. "More like me? What do you mean?"

"Do you recall that when you were a Q, the Continuum banned you from creating any more humanoid species, because they all looked human? You were such a disappointment to me...do you recall?"

"Yes…get to the point!"

"When you brought Yar back, you had every intention of avoiding her more awful qualities."

"Of course I did."

"Yes, but it seems that in your own arrogant way, you imprinted her with some of your own qualities and personality traits, perhaps in an attempt to perfect her in your own image."

"Nonsense," scoffed Jean-Luc. "I did no such thing."

Q smirked. "I didn't say that you _meant_ to do it. Wait and see. This could cause some interesting developments, Jean-Luc."

"You are finding this all very amusing, aren't you?"

"Yes," answered Q. "I am."

* * *

 _Just go in there, make sure she's received the proper care, and then make a quick exit, Beverly_ , she told herself silently. She took a deep breath and hesitated outside of the triage room. Jean-Luc was now resting in his quarters, nursing a regenerating kidney. At least he was _supposed_ to be. In another few hours he would be fine. He was lucky he hadn't been injured more severely; not that he was lucky to have been kidnapped by the Remans in the first place. And he had reminded her that Yar had risked her life to prevent his capture and as a result had been captured as well. She tried to remember that as she walked into the room.

Yar looked up immediately when she walked in. Despite her knowledge of what Jean-Luc and Yar had just been through, Beverly was surprised at Yar's disheveled appearance, having seen her usually so well put together. Beverly looked away, but could feel the young woman's eyes following her as she walked to the side of the room.

"Not exactly a standard issue uniform, Lieutenant," Beverly commented, with her back still turned. She set her med kit down on a nearby counter and opened it up with a click.

"No, Ma'am," Yar said simply. "I was boxing on the holodeck when the red alert sounded."

"Oh? It's good to know you were taking advantage of what little down time we get around here."

Yar scowled. "I had no choice. Commander Data ordered me off duty beforehand," she added, as though she were still annoyed by this.

Beverly turned around and approached Yar with her tricorder humming. When she glanced up she saw that Yar was wearing a strange item on a simple chain around her neck. _Not exactly standard issue either,_ she thought, averting her eyes again. She scanned Yar's recently repaired wounded scalp. Felix had fixed her up well and she could hardly see the outline of the fast-healing cut. "And you didn't like being ordered off duty, I gather?"

Yar shrugged. "A commanding officer gives an order, and I obey. What I like or don't like doesn't matter."

Beverly raised an eyebrow, but had no suitable response. She couldn't imagine thinking that way. But, she supposed perhaps everyone had to find a way to deal with orders and even commanding officers that they didn't like.

"Captain Picard informed me that you …that you tried to prevent him from being taken," she said. She touched Yar's hairline, testing the derma patch.

Yar tensed up as soon as Beverly touched her skin. "It doesn't matter," she mumbled, glancing at Beverly with a cautious expression.

Beverly flushed slightly and lowered the tricorder. "It matters to me, Lieutenant. Maybe you saved the Captain's life…have you considered that possibility?"

"He saved me, Doctor…from the Reman captain. He was going to pierce my skull with some kind of knife, but-" her eyes widened slightly. 'But the Captain saved us both," she said quickly straightening her back.

Without thinking, Beverly put her palm on Yar's shoulder. Yar flinched, and Beverly jumped a little herself. Yar didn't like to be touched, that much was clear. Jean-Luc had told her something of the woman's horrible childhood, but there had only been so much she had wanted to know.

Beverly removed her hand from Yar's shoulder, but Yar caught Beverly's hand in her own. She looked up at the Doctor with a suddenly vulnerable expression and opened her mouth as if she was about to say something.

Beverly froze, not exactly sure what was happening, but she didn't withdraw her hand from Yar's grip. And then very quickly, Yar's expression became guarded again, and she let go of Beverly's hand. "I'm sorry," she apologized, getting down from the bio bed. "Thank you for your help doctor," she added before exiting swiftly.

* * *

" _Captain to the bridge,"_ came Data's voice over the intercom in his quarters. " _We are receiving a transmission from Orion territory. It's on a priority channel, with a code identifiable to Commander Riker."_

Picard got to his feet. "I'm on my way…" he hesitated. "Data, please have Ambassador Troi join me in my ready room. In case it really is Riker, I want her to assess his condition. We'll listen to the transmission together."


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

* * *

Beverly put the strange experience with Tasha Yar behind her and went to check on Seth in the recovery room. To her surprise, Wesley was there, sitting silently next to the younger boy's bed. She walked up behind him and leaned down hugging him around the shoulders. "I'm so glad you're both safe," she said kissing him on the cheek. "But it's 2 in the morning, Wesley. You really should go get some rest."

He shrugged. "I took a nap." Wesley held onto her arm, but said nothing else for a while. "I wonder what's wrong with him," he said distantly.

Beverly sighed and straightened, stretching out her stiff back. "He has something implanted in his neck. From what I can tell it's not a leftover Borg implant."

To her surprise. Wesley let go of her arm with a grimace, and his hand shot to touch the side of his own neck. "Are you sure?"

She watched him with concern. "Wes... you never told me what happened to you down on the Borg home world."

He stood up from his chair. "That's because there's nothing to tell."

She lifted an eyebrow. "You're beginning to sound like your father, you know."

Wesley crossed his arms. "Good," he said seriously. "The way he does things is easier."

"Easier?"

"Yeah. Because he doesn't have to feel anything."

Beverly tried not to betray her worry and shock. "He does have feelings, Wesley. I thought the two of you had been communicating better than before."

Wesley shrugged. "He's not like Dad was...is."

She ran a hand through her hair. "Yes, I know." She looked at him closely. "You miss Jack, don't you?"

He nodded. "Do you?"

"Of course I do." She pulled him into a hug. When he pulled away first she looked into his eyes. "Wes, it's alright to love and miss Jack and still seek love and affection from Jean-Luc. Listen, I know that it's not easy with all of the changes we've been through lately, but we're still together. And we are going to be a family."

Wesley sighed tiredly and wiped a hand over his face. "I know..." He walked toward the bed where Seth lay very still. Part of his uneasiness was that Seth had fallen ill so quickly, and had yet to wake up. Everything was in flux, and he felt helpless. He felt afraid of revealing his fears to his father who seemed to have no fear of anything. Wes sat down carefully on the side of the bed. "Were you able to identify what the implant is made of?"

Beverly walked toward the bed, somewhat grateful for the change of subject, even if it meant she had to again feel the frustration of not knowing how to help Seth. "Yes. It's a tiny piece of manganese."

Wesley frowned. "You mean like the metal?"

She nodded. "Why it would be there, and why it was undetectable before, I have no idea. For some reason the beam that scanned the Enterprise interfered with the object in his neck, or perhaps activated it somehow. He's stable now, and from what I can tell, it's not harming him. But as soon as I get some rest I am going to try to remove it surgically." She reached down and stroked the top of Seth's short curly hair. "I feel incredibly guilty," she admitted.

"Don't," Wesley said. "It's not your fault, Mom. Like you said, it didn't show itself before now."

"That's good advice," said a voice behind them. They looked up to see Guinan standing in the doorway. She approached carefully and stood over Seth. She looked at Beverly for permission. "May I?"

Beverly just looked at her but moved aside. Guinan leaned over the boy and then put her palm on his forehead gently. "I think he'll be ready to wake up soon. He just needs a little bit of help."

* * *

Picard stood at the door of his ready room and beckoned Deanna's mother inside. "Thank you for agreeing to view the transmission with me, Mrs. Troi. Especially at this late hour."

"Of course I would agree! Will _is_ my son-in-law after all, Captain. What kind of heartless woman do you think I am?"

Picard paused at her dramatic exclamation, and then gestured for her to walk past him in to the room. "Oh. Well, I certainly meant no offense."

She beamed a smile at him. "None taken, of course, you lovely man," she declared sweeping into the room and sitting down casually on the couch. She crossed one leg over the other and looked at him demurely before patting the seat next to her.

Picard cleared his throat. "Actually," he said, gesturing toward his personal view screen. "I thought we would sit at my desk and view the transmission together." As if to demonstrate, he pulled out a chair invitingly for her. Smiling again she gathered up her flowing skirt and then sat down gracefully in the offered chair.

Picard sat down beside her and reached out to switch on the screen, just as she inched her chair toward his until the two chairs were just touching. "How clever of you, Captain, now we can be closer together this way."

"Ah…." Not knowing what else to say, he switched the screen on and then looked at her before accepting the transmission. She was awfully close now—and why was she staring at him in such a way? He stuck his finger inside his collar uncomfortably. It seemed as though she was looking straight into his deepest thoughts, and which made him feel decidedly uncomfortable. Mentally shrugging it off, he waved his hand over the screen accepting the incoming code.

The screen wavered for a moment in an odd way, and then Will Riker's familiar but bruised face appeared on screen. "Riker!"

The man on the screen coughed and then hunkered down in front of his screen secretively. "Jean-Luc…you've got to get me out of here," he whispered.

"Of course, of course, Riker, we are on our way," he reassured his friend. "Are you well enough…I see they've harmed you."

Riker characteristically rubbed his beard. "They plan to kill me if you don't get here soon."

"Will, dear," Lwaxana spoke up. Riker shifted his attention to her and blinked as if in slow recognition.

"Oh…hi Lwaxana," he said. "Don't worry about me," he whispered. "As long as the _Enterprise_ gets here soon, I'll be fine."

"I know you will, dear. Now, Will…what do these awful people want? Why did they take you away from us?"

Instead of answering her, Riker glanced behind him, and then back at the screen. "There's not much time." He held up a tiny disk between his fingertips. "I've got our coordinates right here, Jean-Luc. As soon as I transmit them, you won't have any trouble tracking us down."

"Good," Picard said. "Riker, what does this Marco person want? We understand he's ex-Starfleet. Can you tell us anything about him?"

Riker suddenly looked nervous for the first time. "I have to go, buddy…just get here as soon as you can."

* * *

 **The** _ **Eureka**_

Riker turned to look at Marco and Caine, standing behind him out of range of the view screen. "How'd I do?"

Marco nodded. "I think you're ready for the big time, Will."

Riker grinned. "I can't wait until Jean-Luc gets here. He's going to _love_ this place. Especially the women," he said wiggling his eyebrows.

Caine leaned on his elbow against the wall. "And if he doesn't like this place? What then, Riker?"

Will's expression grew serious, as if he hadn't considered that prospect. How could anyone not like what was happening on this ship? Especially knowing that the place they were traveling to was a place where they would find the secret to eternal life. "I—I'd try and convince him, I guess."

Marco walked over and put his hand on Riker's shoulder. He crouched down so that they were at eye level. His green eyes somehow seemed even more intense. "Will…now I thought we were clear on this. If any of your friends can't get with the program, I'm not going to expend one bit of energy on convincing them of anything." He made a gesture toward Caine. "Do you think Caine is just here for his good looks?"

Riker's smile faded gradually. "No…I guess he is kind of ugly, now that you mention it."

Caine kept a sinister smile plastered on his face.

Marco laughed softly. "I knew I made the right choice to open up to you, Will. And I know that if I ask you, you'll do anything I tell you to do." Marco's eyes were mesmerizing to Will at that moment. "Your friend Picard has something that belongs to me, and I don't think he's going to want to part with it."

Riker shook his head. "Picard is stubborn, but he can be convinced. I'll do it, don't worry."

Marco laughed again and stood up. "Good, Will, very good. Because if you can't accomplish the task I'll have to leave it to Caine. And unlike me, he's not so kind. He _will_ kill your friend."

* * *

Lt. Commander T'Sara turned from her current post at ops. "Commander Data, we have cleared the remaining mines in this area. They should pose no further problem for passing ships," she added.

Data nodded curtly. "Thank you, Commander."

"Commander Data, the Klingon ship from the Reman battle is de-cloaking," Yar suddenly announced from tactical. She had arrived on the bridge recently without comment, and looked well enough after her ordeal. Data did not ask what had occurred aboard the Reman ship. Of course, he expected that soon enough there would be a report. However, at the moment, Captain Picard was still engaged in communications with a transmission thought to be from Commander Riker.

"On screen," said Data calmly. He was no more surprised than if Yar had said, "Borg ship approaching", or "giant space frog croaking", because after all, he was an android. But more than that, he was the First Officer on a starship, and ultimately anything was possible. That isn't to say that Data never found certain events to be improbable, or unexpected, because he did. And the return of the Klingon ship was just another of these unlikely events.

The Klingon ship shimmered into view. "They are hailing us, sir," reported Yar.

Data said nothing, as the view screen suddenly filled with the face of an angry Klingon. "We demand to speak with you!"

Data fixed the Klingon with a placid look. "I _am_ listening," Data replied, simply.

The image on the view screen pulled back, and two large figures with their hands bound behind them were shoved toward the screen roughly. Data immediately recognized them as Worf and Krala. They looked just as angry as the first Klingon.

"Commander Worf," said Data by way of greeting.

The first Klingon stepped in front of the two prisoners then. "Do not _honor_ him with the rank of a true Klingon officer. These two criminals have shamed their crew and the Klingon people by disobeying an order of the Chancellor!"

"It would seem that the more appropriate place for this type of dramatic oratory would be a court martial," Data suggested.

Worf was shoved closer to the screen. Krala let out a low growl. "Tell the Federation officers of your plight!" shouted the irate Klingon who had now apparently taken command of Worf's ship. "If they return to Qo'Nos, they will be executed. There will be no _oratory_ ," he sneered. "But the Chancellor likes these two…and he does not want to kill them. However, to have them return and not face the ultimate punishment would be politically…foolish of the Chancellor. Tell him," he screamed into Worf's ear again.

Worf spoke haltingly as though it pained him to say the words. "We seek amnesty on board your vessel as political prisoners," he grumbled.

His wife stood staring angrily at the view screen, until Worf elbowed her in the ribs. "I seek amnesty as well," she growled.

Data consulted the appropriate legal protocols quickly. "As a preliminary matter and under emergency circumstances, I grant your petitions," he said. "You may beam over when ready."

* * *

When the transmission turned off, Picard turned to Mrs. Troi, and realizing she was still too close for comfort, slid his chair far away from hers around to the other side of the desk. She appeared only mildly insulted by this. "What was—what was your assessment of Commander Riker's behavior just now?"

Lwaxana Troi got up from her seat with a sigh and sat down heavily on the couch. "He's either unable to express what he really wants to say…or he's hiding something. Of course, I can't read his mind from that far away, because I can't properly sense him; but I can do a fair approximation of a mind read. There is something very off about Will right now, but I can't put my finger on it."

"I agree…and if I had to guess I would say he is under the influence of some kind of drug. He's never called me by my first name that I can recall; always 'Picard' this and 'Picard' that…and certainly hardly anyone has ever referred to me as 'buddy' before…."

Lwaxana leaned back against the couch. "I'm glad Deanna wasn't here. I don't think she would've-Captain that's it! He didn't say a _word_ about Deanna, not one word about her or the baby. Now imagine that!"

Picard folded his hands over his stomach in front of him. "He's been in captivity for several days, Mrs. Troi. Perhaps he's just desperate to get free and is not thinking clearly. Who knows if they have been starving him, torturing him…and perhaps they were listening in. If that was the case, perhaps he was trying to shield them from knowledge of Deanna—for her safety."

"Perhaps," admitted Lwaxana. "But something very strange is happening here," she said with a frown. "You said perhaps he's desperate to get himself free. But he didn't _seem_ very desperate, did he?" she said looking at him seriously.

He shook his head. She was right. "No, he didn't." He got up and walked around the desk, sitting down on the couch a safe distance away from her. He was trying to be gracious—he was glad for her help. But every time he came physically closer to her he felt _so_ uncomfortable.

Lwaxana laughed suddenly. "Oh, Captain, you don't have to feel uncomfortable for the way you feel about me," she reassured him loudly, before reaching out to place her hand on his knee.

Picard jumped a little, before lifting her hand off of his leg. " _Mrs._ Troi, I am afraid you have gained the wrong impression—"

"Oh, don't over-emphasize the 'Mrs.', Jean-Luc, my husband has been dead for _years_."

"Mrs. Troi, I happen to be involved with someone—"

"Oh Jean-Luc," she interrupted him boredly, "I'm a woman of the world. And I happen to believe that it is entirely possible that you could have room in your heart for more than one woman at a time."

"Oh…no," he said quickly. "I can _assure_ you that my heart has no more room."

"Are you saying 'oh no' because you don't agree, or because you are afraid Beverly Crusher will find out about your unbridled feelings for me? Don't forget I've seen your thoughts, Jean-Luc. And you have a lot to answer for." She chuckled mischievously.

Picard stood up quickly. "Mrs. Troi! I asked you here to assist me because of your unique skills as an ambassador, and your familiarity with Commander Riker. And as for feelings for you, I have _none_."

Lwaxana made a skeptical face, looking up at him. "What did your Shakespeare say about protesting too much? Don't worry, Jean-Luc, I won't tell her that you find me so alluring that you can't stop thinking about me-"

Picard put his hands on his hips and then folded his arms over his chest, entirely unsure of what to do in this situation. So he pointed at her emphatically. "Ambassador Troi…you had better not tell Beverly anything—"

"I know, she doesn't seem the type who would understand," said Lwaxana sympathetically. She stood up and strolled over to him. She kissed him on the cheek before he could move away and patted him on his chest. "It'll be our little secret for now," she said, before winking at him and walking out of the room.

* * *

 **Many years ago…**

The tube-shaped ship rocketed through the solar system at a rate of speed unsafe for landing. Zaftu, Twelfth Descendant of the Healing Order of the beings known in an isolated corner of the galaxy as the Keepers of the Light moved its long-fingered hands unsteadily over the controls. If Zaftu had not been such an accomplished pilot, then it would surely have crashed the vessel by now, because Zaftu was nearly blind.

Zaftu hadn't always been nearly blind, but the disease that had taken the rest of its crew had now affected Zaftu as well, and by now had begun to ravage its organs beyond repair. Zaftu let out a low moan of pain and despair. Zaftu's crew of healers had failed to succeed in their desperate quest to find a cure for the disease that had wiped out the majority of the Keepers of the Light back on the home world.

The search for a cure had grown so bleak that Zaftu and others had been forced off planet to try and seek the cure with less chance of infection. But unfortunately, the plague had already infected some amongst the crew and by the time this was discovered, there was nothing that could be done.

It was all a disaster from there on in. And now, lost in an alien sector, closing in on a medium sized star of a golden hue, Zaftu saw few options. The ship itself was fine. But Zaftu was nearly incapacitated, near death, and the rest of the crew was dead, as far as Zaftu knew. Suddenly the perimeter console began to beep urgently. Zaftu strained to see as a giant blue and white orb loomed on the forward view screen.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

 **1100 A.D. Bahamas**

Nine year old Caonabo stood with his bare foot balanced on the simple rubber ball, waiting for the other players to arrive at the circle of rocks that made up the village playing field. Like most Taino youth he was a skilled ballplayer. He rolled the ball under his foot, hearing the dry earth crackle underneath. After a few more minutes of waiting he stamped his foot down on the solid ball impatiently, and then sat down on it balancing effortlessly without thinking about it.

If the others didn't arrive soon, they wouldn't have a chance to finish a game before Caonabo's father returned from the fishing canoes and he would have to help unload whatever fish had been caught that day. Untucking the lunch his mother had given him from his waistband he raised the baked sweet potato to his mouth, and munched on it absently, trying to keep his annoyance at bay.

Suddenly a hot wind began to swirl the dust at his feet.

A bright flash of light in the sky burst almost blinding him, and Caobano lost his balance on the ball, dropping his sweet potato snack to the ground. He stared out over the ocean, mouth open in awe. There was another bright flash in the sky and then a loud boom. The wind picked up again, and Caobano's eyes widened as he saw the object begin to plummet from out of the sky. It was coming closer…too quickly. The ground beneath him shuddered and he heard the other people in the village screaming. The glowing object suddenly sped overhead with a thunderous rumble.

Caobano fell onto his back, clapping his hands over his ears to try and stop the deafening roar. But he saw with his eyes that the strange underside of the immense flying boat was covered in strange markings. It passed overhead quickly, and he struggled to get to his feet. He watched as the flying boat sped out over the ocean and then abruptly the glowing object disappeared into the waves with a booming crash.

* * *

 **Caribbean Islands 2365 Present Day**

"We've got something! It's coming up," the technician turned and shouted back at them from the edge of the platform. Walker Keel nodded to his two colleagues standing nearby, and they nodded back, quickly but nervously putting on their helmets. Walker reached up to wipe his sweat-streaked face before placing his own helmet over his head. The industrial tractor beam attached to the exploratory platform's crane made a loud whirring noise. Gradually a piece of twisted metal the size of Walker was lifted out of the ocean waves.

Walker's second in command, Commander Joyce laughed as the metallic material was lowered to the deck. "Is that it?"

Walker knelt down about ten feet away and stared at the object curiously. He could just make out part of a black letter on the hull of what used to be a ship. "Yes," he said softly and then stood to his feet. He nodded to Lieutenant Finn. "Get some samples,' he said. "But be careful—not too close," he added, as the young man moved in with his tricorder beeping.

Walker folded his arms over his chest and glanced at Commander Joyce. "So the story goes that in the year 1918, during a very violent world conflict, a ship carrying tons of ore to be used for ammunition sunk in this area. But the vessel's disappearance was never explained."

"The tricorder confirms this object could be the age you just indicated Captain," said Lieutenant Finn, glancing backward. "And this could easily have been a piece of a hull from one of those old warships."

Walked circled the object slowly. "Now here's where it gets weird…in the year 1963 there was a nuclear accident here in the same rough vicinity—"

"A nuclear accident?"

"A submarine was destroyed for reasons unknown…filling the lower depths of the ocean with radiation."

"Which is why we're wearing these suits?"

"No, the area is clean now…has been for years, Commander," said Walker. "In fact I was out here in a boat about twenty years ago. Of course," he added, "I hadn't yet heard these things I'm telling you now."

Commander Joyce looked at Walker skeptically. "If there really _was_ a nuclear reaction, Walker…very little would have made it through such a blast-certainly not the flimsy hull of a sunken boat like we have here."

"Exactly right," said Walker. "So why is it still here? That's what we need to find out." He turned his attention back to Finn, who was still kneeling, but his tricorder was resting on his knee and he had moved in closer.

Finn reached out a tentative gloved hand toward the jagged piece of hull. "What _is_ this stuff?" he murmured. A greenish tint now shimmered over the object and the surface appeared to be moving.

"Finn! Get away from there!"

Finn suddenly jerked backward and then fell onto the deck stiffly.

Walker spoke into his hand held communicator. "This is Agent Keel…beam us back to base immediately. Lieutenant Finn is to be placed in quarantine immediately. And have a medical team waiting for him."

* * *

 **The** _ **Enterprise**_

Yar left sick bay and Doctor Crusher behind quickly and didn't look back. Her heart filled with dread and a familiar low level self-hatred. She had long ago learned to distance herself from people. The only person she had dared to let herself grow close to in life was Gilda Stern her adopted big sister; the only person until she came on board whom she could truly trust.

But now on board the _Enterprise_ she had met Captain Picard. She sensed that they shared a common experience; perhaps a will to survive that could not be snuffed out by anyone or anything. He had just saved her life, and the only person to do this for her before had been Gilda. And now she kept his secret as well; this strange power which he forbade her from revealing to anyone. Did Beverly Crusher know about it? Of course she must. How could he possibly keep such a thing from the mother of his child-and his lover?

She jogged toward a turbo lift, feeling odd as she considered what had happened in sick bay. She was confused. Back in sick bay, Crusher had noticed her necklace, had looked at her in a way that conveyed a familiarity neither of them should have shared. Tasha Yar had little use for familiarity, for intimacy; and so the fact that she had felt an immediate connection to Beverly Crusher troubled her. Crusher's initial reaction to Yar during that first staff meeting had confused her as to the source of the woman's distrust.

But Yar was accustomed to hostility, so the fact that Crusher had at first seemed hostile had not exactly been abnormal. But when Crusher had touched her shoulder in sick bay, she had reacted by grabbing the doctor's hand. She didn't quite know why she had done so, except that she had felt drawn to the woman in that moment. She did find Beverly Crusher attractive, but that wasn't why she had grabbed her hand. Something had caused her in that moment to take a chance and seek a feeling of intimacy that she hadn't really ever known.

And now she regretted it. What if Crusher had sensed her feeling somehow, or mistook her intentions? What if she told the Captain? Yar cursed herself silently. She did not want the Captain to believe that she had some kind of designs on his love interest. She didn't want Captain Picard to see her as competition, much less as a problem crew member. As she ducked into the lift, she clenched her jaw and resolved that next time she encountered Doctor Crusher she would have to try and make amends.

* * *

Ensign Arroyo smoothed the dark hair back out of his eyes. He'd returned to the Enterprise just a month ago, having completed a leave of absence. Like many on the Enterprise, he had experienced a considerable amount of stress following the loss of the _Hood_ and travel into the Delta Quadrant.  
Arroyo had been particularly troubled and had struggled emotionally following the defeat of the Borg. He had even considered finding a new career, but ultimately his brother, a lieutenant on board the Melbourne had convinced Arroyo to return to his post in Engineering.

The young assistant engineer had undergone therapy and eventually had been cleared for duty again. But he still had dreams...actually one nightmare and it was always the same. He was in Engineering during the battle in which they had joined with the _USS Hood_ against the three Borg cubes.

Arroyo was there when the Borg drones transported in. Chief Engineer LaForge told everyone immediately to evacuate the area but was the last to do so himself, just as two Borg appeared inside Engineering. Before anyone could react, the Borg were stomping mechanically through the place. His friend Lieutenant Grimaldi was part of the security force that arrived to confront the Borg, and Arroyo could still hear Grimaldi yelling at him to run. Security fired on the Borg, and as one Security officer went down, Arroyo himself hit the deck and then hid under a table, frozen with fear as the Borg advanced and shot down Grimaldi and two other security officers with their cutting beams.

LaForge, in the wrong place at the wrong time, tried to stop one of the Borg from reaching the warp core, but he was struck in the head and knocked unconscious. Arroyo stayed very still and watched as his friend Grimaldi's body gradually turned lifeless. With the security detail dead, Laforge down, and the rest of the engineering complement evacuated, Arroyo thought he was alone; but that's when he saw her.

A young woman walked gracefully into Engineering. She was dressed in black, and despite the carnage she was walking into, was perfectly composed, her blonde hair pulled back into a short ponytail. He'd seen her around maybe twice, but no one outside of Captain Crusher's inner circle had any real idea who she was. The rumor was she was Starfleet Intelligence. Arroyo, still paralyzed with horror and shame at having just witnessed his friend die at the hands of the Borg, stopped just short of yelling to her.

Instead he watched in muted shock as she stepped over LaForge almost casually and then nudged Grimaldi's body with her boot as though making sure that he was dead. She didn't even glance at the bodies of the other security officers and then marched over to one of the Borg who stood in front of the warp core, examining it with its personal sensor array. She reached up to the Borg and seemed to press her thumb into its chest. Then she tapped it on the side of its head activating a green swirling transport beam that surrounded the Borg as she stepped back and watched it beam away.

Then she moved to the other Borg, and attempted the same maneuver. But the Borg ignored her. She attempted another series of commands, but the Borg continued to gather information from the work station ignoring her. Suddenly she grabbed it by its neck, flipped it over onto the floor and Arroyo heard a snap as its neck was broken. The woman raised her head at that moment, with a very cold look in her eyes. She seemed to look through him, as she stood up and that was when he fainted. That was how the dream always ended, because in real life that was how it had been.

But now as Arroyo stepped into the turbo lift months later he was suddenly faced with the same set of eyes. Although now the woman had shorter hair, and showed no recognition of him. But he was certain it was her. She glanced briefly at Arroyo, and then returned to ruminating about something. She shut her eyes, and Arroyo took the opportunity to stare at her openly. He allowed a slow hatred for her to creep into his heart; something more bearable to replace the pain he felt at losing his friend. What was she doing on board this ship? She was allied with the Borg. A traitor.

Suddenly the woman opened her eyes and glared at him.

"Do I _know_ you?" she snapped.

Arroyo shook his head "no" silently and then lowered his head, hastily retreating off the turbo lift at the next deck up. He felt the woman's eyes still on him as he exited.

* * *

"Are you still angry with me?" Picard asked, rubbing his sore back and looking over at his son. Wesley was standing up, leaning back against the wall. He had entered sick bay a little while ago, after hastily retreating from Mrs. Troi, and since then they had both been waiting somewhat impatiently for Seth to awake. Guinan had left several minutes before leaving Picard and Wesley to spend most of their time in awkward silence.

Wesley reached across his body and scratched his arm. "I don't know. I guess I never was," he shrugged.

"You have that look though," Picard pressed on, sounding doubtful.

"What look?" Wesley gave him a blank expression.

" _That_ look," Picard said, pointing at him. "Your mother looks exactly the same way when she's upset with me. Believe me… I have some practice with that face."

Wesley returned his gaze to Seth's slender form. "I was worried about you…that's all. I know it sounds dumb."

Picard raised an eyebrow. "Of course it's not dumb…I worry about you all the time, Wesley. But perhaps it still surprises me that anyone would be worried about me."

Wesley squinted quizzically at his father. " _Why?"_

"I suppose that when I was with the Q I was mostly alone. The Q do not view or need companionship as we do. At some point I came to believe that I would remain that way for all eternity." He sighed and smiled at Wesley. "And I came to believe that I was merely a memory to my family and friends."

"So you're still getting used to being human again."

Picard nodded slowly. "That is a fair way to describe it."

Wesley shrugged again. "Well…I'd like to help you if I can."

Jean-Luc smiled warmly. "You already have."

Wesley looked down at his hands with embarrassment and then they turned their attention back to the sleeping boy. He was beginning to move his toes. Picard rubbed his knuckles along the top of Seth's head and the boy's eyes fluttered open. His gaze took a moment to focus on Jean-Luc's face. He smiled weakly. "I feel weird," he said.

Picard furrowed his brow with concern, still stroking the boy's head absently. "Define 'weird'," he murmured. "Does anything hurt you?"

"The back of my neck burns a little," Seth mumbled.

He glanced up and gave Beverly a small smile when she walked in the room. She looked absolutely exhausted. She put her arm through Wesley's and leaned against her son.

"You should get some sleep," Picard said to Beverly. "You _both_ should," he clarified, nodding toward Wesley.

"No…we _all_ should," Beverly corrected him.

He smiled slightly but then looked down at Seth growing serious again. The boy had closed his eyes again. Jean-Luc tried not to allow his worry to show.

Beverly leaned over Seth as his eyes fluttered open again. "Seth, honey we're going to take you home tonight. And tomorrow morning I am going to bring you back to sick bay to perform an operation to remove a small object from your neck."

He sat up slowly and brought his hand to the back of his neck. "Is that what's making my neck itch?"

She nodded. "Yes. So once it's out you will feel better."

"What's it doing in there?" he asked sounding more curious than anything.

"I don't know," she admitted. "But once I've removed it, I think it will be easier to figure that out. But I don't want you to worry too much. You're going to feel better soon enough."

"But what if—"

"Enough questions, young man," Picard interrupted. "You can continue talking to your heart's content once we get back to our quarters." Picard reached underneath the boy's armpits and picked him up carefully, and Seth settled into his shoulder.

Beverly smiled and looked at him. "I am so tired," she admitted, grabbing for Wesley's hand. Wesley tiredly pushed himself away from the wall and followed. As they walked out Beverly looked over at Jean-Luc. "You know the strangest thing happened to me a while ago here in sick bay…." She thought of Yar's odd necklace and then trailed off.

He paused and let her walk out first. "Whatever it was that happened…I bet I have something even more bizarre to tell you," Picard said, stepping out the door in back of her. Once out in the corridor he glanced in back of him just to make sure Mrs. Troi was nowhere to be found.

* * *

Yar reviewed the footage from the nightclub again carefully. Riker had tried to escape, but he was outnumbered, outgunned, and judging by the number of empty glasses on his table, he was also drunk. Yar had been around long enough to know that if you lost control, you paid the price. And Riker had lost control of the situation, which was why he was now in the hands of some criminals. Yar was very familiar with criminals too, and she wasn't concerned. Within 48 hours, Commander Riker would be safe on board, and if she had her way his kidnappers would either be dead or in custody. Yar didn't care which, as long as Captain Picard got what he wanted; Riker back alive.

Rubbing her fatigued eyes Yar looked closer, noticing the body posture of one of the assailants. There was something familiar about him. The one with the bright green eyes and longish brown hair was apparently the leader, and she didn't recognize him at all; but the shorter one with the cloak and hood...

"Computer magnify. Focus on the assailant wearing the hood...now brighten...focus on his face and sharpen the image." The computer did as she commanded, and she was eventually rewarded by a decent look at the man's face. A cold shock ran through her and she sat back in the chair almost out of reflex. He was missing an eye now and was more than twenty years older; but then so was Yar. She knew him alright. She wondered if he remembered her. Probably not. But she intended to reintroduce herself very soon.

* * *

T'Sara left her office to find Tasha Yar waiting with her arms folded, leaning against the wall. The counselor gave Yar a brief look as she passed but said nothing. This area of the ship seemed nearly desolate as it was three in the morning and most everyone was asleep. She was curious as to why Lt. Yar was there, but she could guess it wasn't for an impromptu counseling session. Nevertheless she continued walking.

"You invited me to Ten Forward," Yar called after her. "And I want to know why."

T'Sara stopped in mid-stride and turned around. "Most people go to Ten Forward to eat or drink. Some prefer to socialize."

Yar laughed. "Vulcans don't socialize."

"Perhaps," T'Sara admitted. "Or perhaps Vulcans simply socialize in a way you are not accustomed to, Natasha."

Yar seemed to flinch at the use of her first name. "I don't socialize," she shot back.

The counselor nodded curtly. "Very well. Good night then." She resumed her stride, but heard Yar's quick footsteps behind her.

"You didn't answer my question," Yar pressed. "Why did you ask me to Ten Forward?"

T'Sara glanced at the human woman, surprised that she didn't quite know the answer to that question. She tilted her head. "For some odd reason, and despite your difficult personality, Lt. Yar I find you…intriguing."

"I don't need someone to psychoanalyze me," said Yar. "I already know that I'm not always the most pleasant person to be around."

"I did not have to psychoanalyze you to come to the same conclusion."

Yar glared at the Vulcan counselor. "And yet you're standing here still talking to me. Why do I bother?"

"Why indeed?"

"Why don't you just admit that you are into me, and we can cut all of this clever conversation?"

"According to your psychological profile, you avoid long-term relationships of any kind. I would be unwise to pursue even a friendship with you."

Yar's eyes seemed to flash. "I don't need complications."

T'Sara shrugged.

Yar stared at the woman for a few more moments until gradually her expression softened to a degree. Finally she shrugged back. "Maybe I'll take you up on that drink if you're still offering it."

"It is quite late, and Ten Forward is closed," T'Sara observed dryly.

Yar smiled slightly and shifted her feet. But she displayed a cool confidence now. "My quarters aren't."

* * *

"We really need to sort out this issue with our living quarters, Jean-Luc." The lights in his room were set to reflect that the computer knew it was now dawn. He looked up into her shadowed face and her hair swung down brushing his shoulder and neck.

Her hair tickled his nose, and for some reason he started to laugh.

"Shh!" she said, putting a hand over his mouth, at the same time trying not to laugh herself. "The kids are trying to sleep," she whispered loudly. Cautiously she lifted her hand and he made a snickering sound. He reached down to tickle her side, but she leaned over on her elbow and glared at him in the low light. She took hold of his forearm lightly. "Jean-Luc, I'm _serious_ about this!"

He took a deep breath in and smiled, tracing his hand down her naked back. "This is just temporary. I'm having larger quarters renovated for us down the hall," he smiled wider at her shocked expression visible even in the darkness. "Did you _really_ think I didn't want to live with you and Wesley?"

"No…I just thought you were being insensitive and completely forgot I was coming aboard. You haven't exactly been forthcoming with your plans, Jean-Luc."

"Touché," he murmured. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in close. "Can you ever forgive my callousness?"

She brought her lips to his neck. "This is all a big joke to you, isn't it?"

"Kind of," he admitted with quiet amusement. He felt her smooth palm moving on his chest and then gliding lower to his abdomen. She kissed him on his shoulder and he felt her smile as his stomach tightened a little at the touch of her fingertips.

He sucked in a breath, as her hand left his stomach and in an instant settled lightly on his upper thigh. "Now who's ticklish?" she asked.

"Not me," he said through gritted teeth.

"Liar, liar, pants on fire—"

"I'm not wearing any pants," he reminded her. "And it's all because of you."

"I know…." She glanced over at the clock. "It's 0530. I've got to get up and ready for surgery." She moved off of him again and then sat up on the edge of the bed. At least I don't have to struggle to wake up," she said looking back at him. "And it's all because of you. You haven't let me get much sleep."

He rolled onto his side and propped himself up his elbow and stared up at her. "If I could spend every minute awake with you alone, I would."

She stared at him. He wasn't joking anymore. She reached back and took his offered hand. "I love you," she said with a smile and kissed his hand. She pulled her undershirt on.

"I love you too," he said. "I have to tell you something though…in the spirit of me learning to be more 'forthcoming.'"

She laughed and turned halfway to look at him. "Okay, out with it."

"Q came to visit me a few hours ago. And he said something very strange—I don't know what to make of it, in fact."

She frowned. "Every time Q shows up he says or does something strange. I know he's your friend, Jean-Luc, but he's a very odd person."

Jean-Luc sat up now. "He's not a person….he's a Q."

"Well, you're still very much a Q…and also very much a person," she pointed out.

"Point taken," he said.

"Mm hmm…so what did he say this time?"

"He said that when I brought Yar back I inadvertently infused her with some aspects of my personality."

Beverly stood up and stared at him intently. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" She demanded.

He pulled the sheet over his lap, suddenly feeling exposed under her glare. Her mood had changed very intensely in just a few moments, and he wished Guinan or someone else very wise was here to tell him why. "It means…it means—"

"That this new version of her is like you?" Beverly suddenly hugged herself. "I should have seen it…the way she was looking at me, I guess I just thought—"

Picard scurried out of bed, holding the blanket around his waist, now very serious himself. "What do you mean the way she looked at you? Did she threaten you?"

Beverly shook her head no. "Jean-Luc, _think_ about it. She looked at me the same way you do."

His eyebrows shot up. "You mean?"

Beverly tilted her head. "Yes…and she held my hand. Jean-Luc, can this be undone? I mean it could end up being very awkward for me."

He ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know…I don't see how. I don't even know how I did it in the first place—I mean how I made her similar to me."

Beverly sighed. "Well, I suppose there are worse things that could happen." She moved away to grab a towel for her shower.

"Are you serious?" he followed her now very anxious.

She looked at him, and indeed looked very serious. "Yes. If she's got a thing for me, hopefully that at least means she's forgotten her old self. I'd much rather have this Yar than the homicidal one we left behind. _If_ we really left her behind that is."

"But—are you sure you can—"

"Jean-Luc…I can handle this," she said, grabbing his hand and kissing him on the cheek. "Now, is that all you were going to tell me?"

"Well…actually it seems I have a secret admirer as well," he said somewhat resentfully.

She looked at him with a frown. "Who?"

 _That's it, no tiptoeing around it,_ he thought somewhat disappointed by her mild reaction. He wrapped the sheet around him tighter and tried to regain some nobility. Still she eyed him with curious amusement. "If you must know…it is Ambassador Troi. She's quite enamored with me, although I have attempted to ward off her advances."

Beverly clapped her hand over her mouth, but not before her laughter escaped.

He frowned. "What? Why are you laughing?"

"Jean-Luc, apparently her admiration for you was only a secret to you. Because everyone else knew."

"Nonsense! What do you _mean_ everyone? Surely it hasn't been that obvious, Beverly-"

"Everyone, Jean-Luc. She obviously finds you very attractive."

"You don't seem the least bit concerned!"

She raised her eyebrows. "Should I be?"

"Well—well, don't look at me that way," he protested. It was that look again. "I _knew_ you would find a way to turn this around on me."

"Jean-Luc, let's talk about this later," she said leaning in to give him another kiss. "I've got to go to work."

"Yes of course," he said, sobering. "Let me throw some clothes on, and I'll go and get Seth.


	16. Chapter 16

_**Chapter 16**_

* * *

 _ **Turkana IV 2344**_

 _The young girl peeked out from the bottom of the window. The smoke from countless fires floated closer and closer to their home. Despite their well-secured home, she could almost smell the smoke. But she didn't feel fear; not with her parents around. "Natasha! Natasha, get away from the window," her mother shouted._

 _Seven year old Natasha Yar turned and looked at her mother, who was fitting a new power pack into her disruptor rifle. It was not an unusual sight. Her mother was a police officer, or at least she had been a police officer until the majority of the police had joined up with the drug cartels. Now to be exact, her mother was out of a job but still heavily armed. "Erik," her mother called out. "We have to go soon. The fighting is getting closer."_

 _Her father Erik Yar entered the room with Tasha's little sister Ishara in his arms. She was only three and of course hardly knew that anything was wrong. Erik Yar had been a prominent government official, at least until the central government had been toppled just six months earlier. Now he too was out of a job. But right now, these were the least of the family's problems._

" _Alina, I told you we need to wait for a signal from the incoming transport and then we can go."_

" _Erik, if we don't go now, we won't make it," he mother insisted._

" _But if we go now we will be exposed and our girls could be harmed," he father argued back._

 _Just then a fiery object hurtled through the window Tasha had been looking out. "It's a bomb," her mother shouted. Grabbing a few belongings, Tasha's parents shoved her out of the door between them, while Erik held onto Ishara who was now crying. They threw themselves to the ground just as the top of their home blew off raining debris and cinders down upon them._

 _Tasha felt her parents lift her up and push her forward and they were running as fast as they could. Suddenly they halted, seeing a series of armored vehicles had created a blockade. Gangs of men and women stood armed and ready to gun down any one of the terrified civilians. Suddenly a man's voice rang out on a loudspeaker._

" _Attention citizens of Turkana!" A man stepped out of the smoky surroundings. "My name is Caine. And now this neighborhood belongs to me. Just as the street next to this one, and the one next to that and so on….The rule is very simple. You stay in this area now. If you try to leave, I'll kill each and every one of you. Make nice and I might give you jobs working for me. Give me trouble and I will not hesitate to kill you."_

 _He walked forward and his shock of pale blond hair looked t_ hat much _brighter in contrast to the black fog in the air._

 _That was when Tasha's mother raised her rifle, capturing Caine in her sights. Caine smiled and looked in her direction. Quickly he raised a small disruptor and fired. Tasha saw her mother fall into the dust, and ran to her side. She tried to revive her mother, but even Tasha could tell that her mother's staring eyes no longer held any life._

 _Caine walked forward swiftly. Smiling down at the young girl, he kicked her mother's gun toward Tasha. Tasha looked down at the gun and then back up at the man, squinting. He stared at her, but then after a moment bent down and picked up the gun himself. Without hesitation he fired twice into her father's chest, and she swung around to watch, clamping her hands over her face in horror._

 _Caine knelt down in the dirt. "You hesitated…and look what happened. I bet you'll never forget that lesson, will you kid?"_

Yar sat up gasping in bed. A memory, a horrible memory replayed again and again inside her brain. She felt the bed next to her. It was empty. She had invited T'Sara home with her, but nothing had happened between them. Nothing but mind games; certainly not the the type of late night entertainment Yar had been interested in. Eventually the counselor had left. Another person Yar had driven away. She pulled the sheet up over her head and lay back down hoping for sleep.

* * *

 **Enterprise Sick Bay**

Beverly Crusher moved the surgical scanner hanging over her head and brought it down to Seth's neck. It illuminated his skin and showed his spinal cord very clearly along with the now obvious metal object nestled in his vertebrae. He was lying on his stomach, and the monitors showed he was unconscious and stable. He wouldn't feel a thing; but could she even complete this procedure safely? The more she looked at the object, the more she noted that it had moved significantly just in the last few hours. "Alyssa…please come here."

"Yes Doctor." Alyssa Ogawa hurried over to Crusher's side.

"Hold the scanner for me," Beverly said glancing up at the nurse. "You see this?" she said pointing at the base of Seth's neck. "I've waited too long. It's actually moved further into his neck over the past four hours."

Alyssa studied the area the scanner was targeting and then looked up at Beverly in alarm. "It's in danger of pressing on his vertebral nerve, Doctor. If it goes any further it will begin to cut off blood flow…."

"And cause a stroke," Beverly finished. "This thing could kill him, Alyssa. Let's get started."

* * *

 **Three hours later…**

Beverly sat down outside of the surgical area and leaned her head back against the wall. She was exhausted, but relieved. The surgery had been a success, and she had removed the strange metallic object from her son's neck. The outside of the object was manganese, but the internal structure was unknown. It was now stored away in a secure container and she felt confident that Felix Gardner would continue researching it in his lab and the object's origin would be identified.

She sighed and allowed herself a small smile. Soon she would be able to take him out of sick bay and back home. _Home._ Her smile grew wider. Just months ago, she never would have pictured this being her life, but as tumultuous as it had been, she didn't want to change it for anything. She closed her eyes and thought of pleasant things.

Suddenly Felix Gardner popped his head into the room. "Doctor, I'm sorry…but something's gone wrong."

Beverly's eyes snapped open. "What?" she got to her feet, feeling a surge of adrenaline go through her body. "What's happened?"

"It's Seth. We're reading a viral infection, and it's spreading quickly."

"Virus, what kind of virus," she demanded rushing out the door with Felix.

"We've never seen it before, Doctor."

* * *

 _She was floating on her back in a lake that was almost like warm bathwater. Her eyes were shut and she could feel the hot sun soaking into her damp skin. For a moment she felt as though she must be back home on Betazed and she felt truly happy. Then suddenly something cold and slithering wrapped around her ankle. She tried to slip her foot from its hold, but it yanked downward and she was pulled to a vertical position. She struggled to keep her head above the water, the surface of which was strangely still. She could see the beach—she could see Will, but something wasn't right. He was turned away, but that wasn't the problem. She couldn't feel his emotions or the connection they shared. Will, she shouted inside her head. He didn't turn around. "Will!" she shouted out loud. She still could not sense him at all, and she screamed as she was pulled further down. "Will!" Slowly he turned around, but to her horror, his face was blank and featureless. He raised a hand to wave at her, before she screamed again and was pulled down into the depths._

Deanna Troi sat up in bed gasping and exhausted from the nightmare she had just experienced. A cool hand was pressed against her forehead and another gripped her shoulder gently. _Be still, Little One, I'm here with you._ She opened her eyes and looked up into her mother's face. Gradually her consciousness came back into the room, but her body was still trembling. She passed a hand over her belly. In the dream she hadn't been pregnant, but now everything was okay. She shut her eyes again and searched for him. No…nothing was right anymore. She couldn't sense him at all. "Mother," she sobbed. "Something has gone horribly wrong. I can't sense him anymore. He's dead!"

Lwaxana Troi shook her head and sat down beside her daughter. She patted "No. He's not dead, Deanna. But he has been captured. And…when I spoke to him with Captain Picard—"

Deanna sat up straighter. " _What?_ You spoke to my husband and _didn't think_ to involve me in the discussion?"

"Deanna, Captain Picard asked me to assist him—."

"And you just jumped at the chance, I am sure, Mother."

"Deanna!"

"Never mind. Where is Will? Is he alright?"

Lwaxana gripped Deanna's hand. "I was _going_ to tell you that…look, Deanna, I think that they may be using some sort of mind control on Will. But I do believe he is safe physically."

"Mind control? That would explain why it is as though I can't feel my link with him."

"We've got the coordinates of his captors now," Lwaxana reassured her. "It's only a matter of time until we have him back, Deanna."

"But is it going to be Will, or a stranger?"

* * *

Captain Picard paced the bridge anxiously. Beverly had called him just minutes ago, sounding tense and worried. She had explained that Seth's surgery had been successful, but that inexplicably and almost immediately afterwards, he had contracted an unidentified virus. Rarely had Jean-Luc ever felt so worried, and so helpless. But a growing and nagging voice in the back of his mind reminded him that he was not helpless; far from it, in fact. He had the power to cure Seth. In fact he could save Beverly the stress of having to find a cure. And what if in the end she could not save Seth? He told himself to allow Beverly and her staff to help Seth. They were the experts. But he knew that he could not allow "nature to take its course" and allow the boy to die, simply because human knowledge and medicine failed. He cursed himself. Whatever Beverly did, it could not be considered failure. But he wouldn't let Seth die. He couldn't; not while it was preventable. He squeezed his hands into fists and stopped pacing. "Where is Commander Data?" he demanded of no one in particular.

The science officer, T'Sara turned from her station. "Sir, he was checking on warp function with LaForge in engineering."

"And our Klingon guests?"

"They are on the observation deck with a security detail, Captain."

Picard nodded absently and then glanced back at her. "Commander, this isn't your shift. Why aren't you resting in your quarters? You've been awake for nearly 24 hours."

"I could not sleep, sir," she said mildly, before turning back to the science station.

He watched her for a moment. "I see. Well, in five minutes, I want you to call for relief. I need everyone on my bridge fresh and alert."

"Aye sir."

Picard glanced up as the doors swished open and Data walked out of the turbo lift.

Picard beckoned him over. Data watched with open curiosity as the Captain tapped his foot impatiently on the deck and glared at his first officer. "Data, I truly hope you haven't involved us in a political quagmire with the Klingon Empire. Because that is quite possibly the last thing we need right now."

"Sir, I did not divert from Federation amnesty protocols, and all parties seemed agreeable to this resolution."

Picard was skeptical. "Agreeable Klingons? Come now, Mr. Data...and so now what? Commander Worf and his highly volatile wife are on board my ship indefinitely? We're in the middle of a _mission_ , Data."

Data tilted his head. "The Klingons are, for lack of a better phrase: along for the ride, Captain."

Picard's features slowly cracked into a smile. "Perhaps Worf's knowledge will come in handy should we be unfortunate enough to encounter those Remans again," he allowed. "Very well...let's ensure that they are comfortable but that security is alerted. I happen to trust Worf and Krala, although she did nearly kill me once-or twice... because they joined us in our fight against the Borg. But not everyone will be so open to their presence here," he added. "Please coordinate with Lieutenant Yar."

He turned away, but heard a strange crackling sound and turned back around to see Data's innocent expression still fixed upon him.

"What was that?"

"What sir?"

"That bizarre _noise_ , Mr. Data…what was that?"

"Ah. Perhaps you heard me clear my throat, Captain. I was attempting to subtly gain your attention, sir."

"Well, I don't know about subtle, but you've got my attention now, Mr. Data." Picard glared at the android for a few more seconds, but Data remained on the verge of saying something. "Well? Out with it, Commander," he finally snapped.

"Pardon my continued use of human vernacular Captain, but Lieutenant Yar is proving to be something of a hot head."

Picard nearly laughed at Data's perpetually serious expression. "Hot head? I tend to agree generally, Commander, but could you try and be a bit more specific?"

"During the completion of security drills for her staff, she was somewhat argumentative when I ordered her to stop."

Picard frowned. "You mean she disobeyed your order?"

Data hesitated. "No sir. But I do believe that she wanted to, Captain."

Picard's smile faded slightly. Strange that an android appeared more adept than he was at reading human emotions. "Data…let's count on each other to keep an eye on the progress of our new crew member. If you see anything else out of the ordinary, I want you to let me know. Understood?"

"Yes, Captain."

Just then the turbo lift doors opened again and Lieutenant Yar stepped out, moving toward her post at tactical. T'Sara got up abruptly from her station and walked past Yar.

"Have somewhere more important to be?" Yar remarked in a low voice. "You seem great at taking off without warning."

T'Sara halted in mid-step. "Captain Picard has ordered me from my post. I required no such order from you, to realize that you did not want me in your quarters any longer."

"Oh you think you can read me, is that right?"

"Perhaps." T'Sara moved swiftly to exit, and Yar stared after her in silence, unaware that she was being watched by Picard and Data.

"Lieutenant," Picard said abruptly.

Yar spun around in alarm to look at him.

"Man your post," he said more gently.

Looking slightly embarrassed, she complied without a word.

* * *

Walker Keel circled his subordinate Finn, who sat at a table inside a small room usually used for interrogations. Surrounding the young intelligence agent was a red quarantine bubble. The poor kid had experienced the misfortune of coming into contact with some green goo while they were dredging some old artifacts from the ocean. The fact was, the only person not surprised to see the green substance was Walker. But what did surprise him was how quickly the substance had changed the man sitting in front of him.

Walker placed his palms flat on the table and stared down at Finn. "Who are you?"

Finn smiled slowly and looked up at him. "I'm Finn. Who do you think I am?"

"If you're Finn, then something has changed you, kid."

"What something would that be?" Finn asked.

"You tell me," Walker demanded.

Finn smiled again and looked down at his hands. "We need to rise to our natural place in the order of things. And there is nothing we won't do to reach this goal," he said slowly.

Walker shook his head, perplexed. "And what exactly do you need to do to reach this goal?"

Finn blinked, and then smiled up at Walker again. "Once I find my people they will tell me what we must do."

Walker sat down across from Finn. "I think I might be able to help you find them. But then I'll need you to do something for me."


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

For the last several minutes, Captain Picard had been standing next to the forward view screen, facing it but staring down at the floor. His hands were draped behind his back almost casually. But Data was familiar enough with the captain to recognize his posture as contemplative. The captain had received a call 35.02 minutes prior, and the Captain had taken the call in private. Based on a number of factors, Data postulated that there was an 85% likelihood that the call was from Beverly Crusher, but knew better than to inquire.

"Captain," said Data, walking toward Picard. "As you have ordered, we have set a course at warp eight. However, the coordinates Commander Riker provided us with will bring us deep into Orion territory."

"Hmm? Yes, thank you…I am aware of that, Commander." Picard hardly looked at him. Data did not register this as anything odd in particular, so he proceeded with his point.

"The particular sector where Commander Riker has indicated he is being held captive is on a short list of territories forbidden for Starfleet vessels to enter," Data warned the Captain.

Picard finally turned to Data, his expression difficult for anyone, let alone an android to read. "Data, we've been given free reign from Command," he said simply. "Besides, we're not going to let a so-called forbidden zone stop us from bringing back Riker."

* * *

Yar watched the interplay between captain and first officer carefully, while of course paying closer attention to her console. She too was aware of the disturbing stories which occasionally originated from Orion territory. It was a place where lives were easily discarded, and you took a chance with your own by venturing in. Unlike many of the crew who no doubt feared entering Orion territory, Yar admired that the captain was willing to risk everything and everyone on this ship—even the ship itself to retrieve his friend. She only hoped that Riker was worth it.

She realized the time was coming when she would need to tell Captain Picard what she knew. She had recognized Caine from the holo of Riker's abduction. The captain would need to know this. She wouldn't have to tell him everything—just enough to help him understand just who Caine was, and what he was capable of. Meanwhile she would need to prepare her own security teams to face the challenges that lay ahead.

"Yes sir," Data was saying. "We will arrive in eleven hours, and twenty two minutes." Data watched as the captain walked away from him without another word. Data could ascertain that the captain was under stress, but thought better than to inquire further.

"What I would really like to know is..." the captain suddenly began as though finishing out loud a conversation begun in his head. "Why are Riker's captors still holding the same position? " He turned and addressed his bridge crew. "Thoughts?"

Yar leaned forward intently, clearly eager to be finally asked her opinion. "A trap sir," she said. "They know we're coming and Commander Riker is the bait."

Picard nodded. "You may be right." Of course he'd been thinking along similar lines.

"Anyone else," he said looking around the bridge.

"Perhaps," suggested Commander T'Sara, who had recently returned from break, "Their ship has been disabled, and they are unable to move."

Yar shifted anxiously at her post, looking past the science officer at the Captain. "Sir, that theory just doesn't work."

"Do you have a logical basis for your objection, Lieutenant?" T'Sara tilted her head expectantly at the security chief.

Yar was growing visibly annoyed, but she kept her voice even. "Commander Data ran a long range sensor scan and from what we could tell, their propulsion systems are intact."

"''From what we could tell' is not an accurate term of measurement, Lieutenant," T'Sara replied somewhat dismissively. "There is at least 20% probability that the propulsion systems of the vessel in question are disabled, due to a malfunction which cannot be detected from this distance."

Yar looked down at her post and gripped the edges of the tactical station tightly.

"There is an 18% percent margin for error, to be exact," Data corrected the science officer.

 _I do believe a Vulcan has just been out-Vulcaned by an android_ , Picard noted to himself.

"I go with my gut and my training, not abstract percentages," Yar said pointedly. "I think we should expect that they will be prepared and waiting for us."

The captain studied his security chief carefully. She was behaving quite assertively, which he appreciated in a security chief. But Data was right about her, and there was a fine line between assertiveness and aggressiveness. It would remain to be seen if she could keep her emotions in check in order to carry out the mission. "Very well, Lieutenant. Please prepare your teams."

"Aye sir." Yar pushed herself away from the tactical station and headed for the turbo lift swiftly.

* * *

"There is another obvious theory of course, captain," said Data once Yar had gone. Picard turned around questioningly.

"The ship we are pursuing may have simply reached its destination."

"Hmm," Picard nodded. But in his mind he had already sided with Yar. There was something so odd about Riker during that call, and the motives for his kidnapping were as yet unclear. He walked over to Lt. Commander T'Sara who was standing at her science station examining readouts. "Lt. Commander," he said in a low voice.

She turned to face him with an arched eyebrow. "Yes sir?"

For a moment, he lost his focus, then continued to speak to her quietly. "Commander, I am not one to pry into the off duty relationships of my officers-unless those relationships begin to interfere with your conduct while on duty."

T'Sara straightened her already impressive posture. "I understand, captain. But as you know, Vulcans are not given to emotional difficulties-"

"But Yar is human," interrupted Picard gently. "And I have witnessed two exchanges between you already which indicate to me that Yar _is_ given to...emotional difficulties whether she would like to admit it or not. Now I would think that as my ship's counselor you would have noticed this already."

"I have," she said simply.

"And as her superior officer..."

T'Sara's sharp cheekbones flushed a deep green. Picard could not recall ever having witnessed Vulcan embarrassment until that moment.

"Captain, I give you my assurance that I will conduct myself ethically and professionally in the future with regard to Lieutenant Yar. I...apologize, sir, for my lack of judgment."

Picard nodded. "I have considerable faith in your abilities, commander. My advice to you is that you not engage with Yar when she appears argumentative."

"Yes sir," she said.

Picard turned away, exhaling. He was not adept at crew interpersonal relations, so to find himself counseling his counselor was quite awkward.

Once one awkward situation was over, his mind returned to Seth's predicament. Picard continued to pace the bridge trying to steady his mind. Beverly had said Seth was ill, but it seemed even she didn't know the extent of his sickness. He struggled to remember what it was like before he had other people in his life to care about. In many ways he recalled that it had been so much easier. Before Wesley and Seth, the only person he had ever truly loved apart from his mother, had been Beverly. And for so many years she had been sort of a distant obsession, as he had never really believed that she loved him back. But oh, how things had changed.

Now he was faced with a situation where his adopted child was gravely ill with an unknown virus. He shut his eyes and thought back to months earlier when they had yanked Seth out of a Borg incubation chamber in one of the most horrifying moments of his life. But what really kept him awake sometimes staring into the darkness was that they had been so close to not saving those children from the clutches of the Borg.

So many times he shuddered to think what _might_ have happened to the boy. How he would have suffered. He knew that this feeling was connected to his own experience with the Borg. It made Picard sick and furious at the same time to know that now Seth was now suffering once more. Hadn't he been through enough?

And the worst part about it was that he, Picard was hardly helpless. He could save the boy with the Power. He had merely to ask it. But then, once he had made the choice, would everything change once more? He began to feel as though the bridge had shrunk around him, closing him in. He had to do something.

Suddenly he felt a warming in his chest as the Power sought to communicate with him. _Seth of Marca is dying, Jean-Luc. You must make your choice now...you must go to him._

* * *

Guinan looked up from clearing tables in Ten Forward at the sound of a buzzing communicator. There was no one else in the lounge but her. For a moment she had forgotten that Captain Picard had given her a communicator. It had sort of been a joke between them: "In case my replicator breaks and I need an emergency root beer float," he'd said when presenting it to her. But it was also easy to forget, given that she almost never received a call on it. She hesitated to answer but then tapped it lightly. "Yes?"

The voice on the other end was so tense that she immediately took on a stressful feeling herself. "Guinan...it's me, Beverly. I need your help...it's Seth. He said you... well he said his mother was El Aurian. He's very ill. Could you-would you help me?"

The desperation was clear. Crusher, as a doctor and mother unnaccustomed to needing help, was struggling to come up with answers, and so far there had been none. "Of course, doctor, I'm coming right away."

When Guinan arrived there was a protective medical quarantine field around the child. Beverly made her put on a pair of gloves. "It's a virus, and it is running rampant through his immune system. I've tried anti viral drugs already, even antibiotics in case it's bacterial," Beverly said, checking Seth's vitals again. "And he's feverish," she said placing a gloved hand on his forehead. "I can't seem to bring it down," she said with an unmistakable look of frustration.

Guinan leaned over the boy examining his face which had begun to twitch. She glanced at Beverly.

"He's been experiencing muscle spasms throughout his body," Beverly said tightly. "I don't know what it means, unless its simply the effects of a very high fever." _Use your brain, not your heart, Beverly,_ she told herself. _Figure it out..._

Guinan looked at her calmly. "May I?"

Beverly nodded quickly and stepped aside. Guinan placed her hands on either side of his face. Gradually Seth's twitching became less, but did not stop.

After a minute or so, Guinan let go of Seth's face and stood up. She turned to Beverly with empathy. The objectivity of a doctor caring for her patient was only a thin veneer now, no longer sufficient to hide the pain of a distraught parent. "Can you keep his fever down?" Guinan asked quietly.

Beverly nodded. "It's so high now...too high for a human to withstand. But I've stabilized it at 115 degrees Fahrenheit."

Guinan touched her arm lightly. "Good. Just don't let his temperature rise above 140 degrees."

"One hundred and forty degrees!"

Guinan increased pressure of her fingertips on Beverly's arm. Strangely Beverly felt her blood pressure even off. She felt calmer-as calm as could be expected. "Have you noticed Seth twitching before?"

"No," said Beverly. "But I've only been back on board less than a day. Have you?" She was careful to keep the accusation out of her voice. Guinan was just trying to help her, she reminded herself.

"Just before you came back aboard he came to see me. Instead of me bothering him about not being in school-"

"He wasn't in school?" Given everything else that was happening to Seth, Beverly knew that his skipping school should not have been enough to make her irritated with Jean Luc again, but it was. Had Jean-Luc noticed that Seth had been twitching? If so, he hadn't said a thing. She felt Guinan's fingertips on her wrist again, and again her pulse slowed, calming her.

"Instead of talking about school we talked about his mother," Guinan continued. Adrena was an amazing person, and I wanted to tell him about how I knew her when she was just his age. While we were talking his right hand started twitching and he bit his knuckles until his hand calmed down. I don't know if it is related to his muscle spasms, but I thought I would mention it."

Beverly took in a deep breath and tried to remain calm and to focus. "Thank you."

* * *

"There is a consciousness on this ship that wasn't here before, Deanna." Lwaxana looked at her daughter worriedly. She closed her eyes. "By the _goddess...that_ poor little boy is in grave danger!" She stood up and reached for her daughter's hand, helping the very pregnant Deanna to her feet.

"Mother!"

"Come along, Little One, we are needed in sick bay."


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

 **A few minutes later...**

Breathless, from rushing through the ship, the two Betazoid women rushed into sick bay. Beverly turned in alarm. She had been administering a relaxant to ease Seth's muscle spasms. "I'm sorry, but unless you have an emergency, please see another doctor, I've got my hands full."

Deanna glanced at her mother worriedly. What exactly was the plan? "Actually, Beverly, we're here to help you...right mother? If you want us here, that is," Troi added.

Beverly regarded her friend and then rubbed her tired eyes. "Of course I want you here," she admitted sounding exhausted. "But there's nothing you can do." She felt herself suddenly unable to keep the emotions from slipping out.

Lwaxana stepped forward and grabbed Beverly by the hand. "You are so wrong, my dear. We _can_ help. Why I can communicate with the creature."

"Creature? What!?"

"Mother!"

"Deanna, I told you...there is a conscious being. It's here! Inside Seth..."

Beverly was trying hard to keep herself from flying off the handle. "He has a _virus_ , Lwaxana. _Please_ do not bring your dramatics into my sick bay!"

"Please...everyone stand aside." Guinan looked over Beverly's shoulder to find Picard standing there. And his chest was glowing a bright white light. "I am here to save my son."

"Jean-Luc," Beverly put her hand up to her mouth. "No," she said, her voice now shaking. "What are you doing?"

Deanna and Lwaxana stood staring in silent shock. Beverly, whether unconsciously or deliberately moved in front of Seth's hospital bed.

Only Guinan approached, walking slowly to him. "What are you doing captain? You know this isn't the right way..."

"Don't you dare tell me how to protect my child," he shouted, and his chest glowed brighter as the Power began to push its way out. "I can save him," he said in a quieter voice. "I can." The white light slowly spread upward now enveloping his head in an eerie glow.

"Guinan," Beverly yelled. "Please get him out of here before he does something he shouldn't! Jean-Luc," she said. "I know you are desperate to help Seth-so am I-but this isn't the way. Please."

He shook his head, but then Guinan came close enough to touch him. She reached out to put her hands on his shoulders, carefully avoiding the bright light of the Q. "Trust me, captain, this is not the way to do this. You have to let Beverly do her job." The bright light ebbed somewhat, and she held his shoulders firmly.

At that moment, Wesley appeared in the doorway behind his father. His jaw dropped, almost incapable of believing what he was seeing.

"Sir?"

For some reason the sound of his son's voice brought him back to reality and humanity in that moment. Wesley gently but firmly reached his arms around Picard's chest and held onto him tightly. "Please don't do it, dad. Stay here with us." And that was when he let go.

A sob escaped him and he allowed Wesley and Guinan to guide him to a chair, sitting him down. He knew Beverly was watching him, but he dared not look at her. Instead he sat very still, staring at the floor, while Wesley and Guinan stood on either side of him.

 _And_ _ **I**_ _am being accused of dramatics? Good lord, Deanna, these people need_

 _professional counseling, what have you been waiting for?_

 _Mother what exactly is your plan?_

 _To communicate with Seth's virus, of course._

 _Well have you ever done such a thing before?_

 _Of course not Deanna, don't be silly!_

 _Well with no plan and no experience talking to diseases, how would you like me to help?_

 _Stabilize the boy with your training and I will attempt communication._

* * *

 **On Board the** _ **Profit's Savior**_ **somewhere in Orion territory**

"Daimon, we are now within thirty drens of the human's ship," reported the navigator.

Newly promoted Daimon Val sat forward in his command chair and rubbed his hands together. "Very good, keep a steady course. I want us to be in full view-give him time to think about his options before we arrive."

"Don't we want to take him by surprise, Daimon?" his first officer asked tentatively.

Val hissed. "I know Marco...and he cannot be taken by _surprise_. And I know he has the best armaments money can buy, because I sold them to him. No, the only way is to make a deal with the human."

"Not to be presumptuous, Daimon, but what exactly does this human have that we want?"

"He has the stuff of legend, Dral- Marco is said to have the key to the Gates of the Divine Treasury," replied Val.

"Eternal life?" Dral squealed excitedly.

"Even better," said Val with a smile. "Eternal wealth."

* * *

Beverly glanced around Seth's hospital room and was more than a little glad that so few had just witnessed Jean-Luc's near Q melt down. Deanna of course was already aware that he continued to be equipped with extra-human powers, as she had initially helped him to learn communication with the Power. Mrs. Troi on the other hand hadn't known a thing-at least she hadn't indicated that she had suspected anything to be odd about the captain before now. Her current expression of shock _seemed_ authentic at least. Usually verbose, Lwaxana's mouth opened and closed without making a sound as she regarded captain Picard who was currently sitting in a chair cradling his head in his hands.

Beverly avoided staring at him. There was nothing she could say right now to help him since in fact she was feeling the same fear and helplessness that he was. She would need to speak to him in private, and now was not the time. Jean-Luc had remained silent in the minutes since he had been successfully discouraged from his plan to save Seth with the Power of the Q. Guinan and Wesley stood close by him, and Wesley was resting his palm on his father's shoulders. _Thank goodness for Wesley._

Beverly looked down at Seth's sweaty brow and another part of her wondered why she had stopped Jean-Luc. Watching the little boy's shallow breathing, she was reminded that so far nothing she had done had really improved his condition.

Deanna took her mother aside. "Mother," she whispered. "No one else knows about the captain's...condition. And it is extremely important that it remains that way. I know you know a number of people at Starfleet Command-but they don't know about this, Mother. So, _please_..."

"What exactly _is_ his 'condition' Deanna?" Lwaxana whispered back.

"I'll explain later, Mother. The important thing is that you agree right now that you will not under any circumstances-"

"Good gracious, Deanna," she said loudly. "Do you think I can't keep a _secret?_ If you ask me, the man is just that much more desirable-oh, fascinating, I mean," she corrected herself quickly.

 _Mother..._

"Thank you, Lwaxana," Beverly said tightly. "But a moment ago you said that you could help my son. Is that still the case?"

"Of course doctor," Lwaxana said in her most soothing voice, which really just sounded condescending.

"Deanna and I just discussed our little plan...in here." She tapped the side of her head. "But of course you couldn't hear us. You're just a _fabulous_ doctor, but no one is perfect." Deanna sighed inwardly as Beverly simply stared at her mother expectantly. "In any case, Deanna will stabilize Seth's unconscious mind while I then communicate with the creature-I mean the virus."

Beverly turned to her friend skeptically. "Deanna...is this really a possibility?"

Deanna nodded. "My mother is very capable. I think it's worth a try."

 _Thank you, Little One._

"But does it matter that Seth is still sedated?"

"No," said Deanna. "It should be fine."

They all looked up as Nurse Alyssa Ogawa and Felix Farmer entered the room. Dr. Selar followed a moment later. Dr. Selar regarded Captain Picard's oddly slumped posture. "Captain, are you well?" she inquired.

He sat up straighter. "Yes," he said quietly. Beverly tried to catch his gaze but he was staring blankly at Seth's still figure.

"What's going on, doctor?" Felix asked Beverly with quiet concern. "What is the patient's status?" He knew Beverly was trying to remain professional, and he wanted to help her to focus as much as possible.

"Ambassador Troi and Counselor Troi are going to attempt to...communicate with the virus inside Seth," she said.

"What?" Felix looked down at Beverly with unmitigated surprise.

"Fascinating," said Selar.

* * *

 **A few minutes later...**

 _ **Deanna:**_

 _Seth, this is Deanna Troi... Beverly's friend. Can you hear me?_

 _Seth?_

 _Yeah...I can hear you. Hi Deanna._

 _Seth you must have some telepathic abilities. I am so happy, because I feared I would be unable to communicate with your unconscious mind. We are all very worried about you. There is a powerful virus in your body, and we are doing everything we can to help you fight it. How do you feel?_

 _Tell Jean-Luc I'm not scared._

 _I bet he knows, but I will tell him anyway. How does your body feel, Seth?_

 _I feel hot. I'm thirsty._

 _I understand...right now you are under sedation because Beverly believes it is best._

 _Beverly. I love her._

 _I know, and she loves you, too. Now Seth we are going to try something new. I am sending you a thought. It is an image of Jean-Luc and Wesley and Guinan. I am looking at them right now, so I want you to tell me as soon as you can see them._

 _Yeah! There they are...how did you learn how to do that?_

 _Lots of practice, Seth. Alright, now I want you to try and focus all of your thoughts on that image._

 _They look so sad...if I could wake up I would tell them not to be worried._

 _You are very caring, Seth. Once you wake up, you can surely tell them. But right now I would like you to focus all of your energy on that image. Alright?_

 _Okay, I can do that._

 _Good. Do you remember my mother, Seth?_

 _Yeah, she's really loud and has a creepy crush on Jean-Luc._

 _Yes, exactly that is her. She is a very powerful telepath. And she is going to try and communicate with the virus inside your body._

 _That's weird._

 _I know it is, Seth. But I want you to just focus on the image, because it will help quiet your mind so that my mother can contact the mind of the virus-if it has one._

 _I don't think it wants to kill me, but it's still not very nice._

 _I know._

 **Mrs. Troi:**

 _Hello...unidentified viral creature. I am Ambassador Lwaxana Troi, Daughter of the Fifth House, Holder of the Sacred Chalice of Riix..._

 _Your titles are inconsequential, you inane biped. Only my survival matters._

 _Survival? But how do you intend to survive if you kill this poor child?_

 _Someone has disturbed my hibernation. I was dispersed before I was allowed to arrive at my destination._

 _So you didn't intend to infect this little boy?_

 _I must lead my people._

 _People? No offense, but that seems like a very liberal interpretation for what you are._

 _Return the hibernation chamber or I will kill this young biped and move to another._

 _Hibernation chamber?_

 _Return it to me, and I will not harm this biped further._

Lwaxana Troi's eyes flew open and she sat forward with a gasp. Beverly Crusher caught her by the shoulder. "By the goddess, that was so bizarre!"

Deanna's eyes opened in the next moment. She blinked a few times before speaking. "What did you learn, Mother?"

"It is very intelligent...for a disease," Lwaxana clarified. She looked up at Crusher. "It wants you to return it to its hibernation chamber, or something like that. It assured me that it will leave Seth alone if you do. If you don't comply with its demands, I am afraid his condition will only worsen, doctor. And it threatened that it would infect someone new."

 _Hibernation?_ Beverly turned to Felix Farmer and Alyssa Ogawa who stood next to her. "What?" She whispered to no one in particular. She took on a simultaneously bemused and horrified expression as she activated a screen on the wall which displayed a spinning image of the tiny manganese tube she had surgically removed from Seth's neck. "Could this be it?"

"Doctor" Felix said anticipating her next idea. "If we put this back in, we don't know whether it will help Seth or hurt him...and his immune system is very weak."

"Doctor Farmer is right," nurse Ogawa said. "You wouldn't normally recommend surgery for a patient in Seth's condition."

"There is nothing normal about this situation, Alyssa" Beverly said firmly. Then she made her decision. "We're doing the surgery. We'll put the manganese piece back where we found it, and then monitor him carefully. Do you agree, Doctor?" she said looking at Dr. Selar.

"There is the very real possibility that his condition could worsen, Doctor," said Selar. "However, the patient's current vitals indicate that his condition will also worsen further if we continue more conventional treatments."

* * *

Felix watched Beverly worriedly. "Doctor," he said quietly to Beverly. "Can I speak with you alone?" He felt the captain staring at him which made him recall the captain's intense jealously when he had first come aboard the Enterprise.

Felix had managed to strike up a silent detente with Picard since then; since he was now clearly with Alyssa Ogawa, and Beverly was in love with Picard. The lines were much more clearly drawn now. But as the captain stood up slowly, still watching his interaction with Beverly, Felix began to wonder if the uneasy truce was over.

But Beverly made it easy for him, since she seemed to want to make a point of ignoring Jean-Luc, and followed Felix a few paces away, crossing her arms, looking up at him. "What, Felix? You're not going to change my mind on this."

Felix smiled gently. "And I won't try. But again...you're too close to this, and the stakes are even higher than they were a few hours ago. Let me or Selar do the surgery," he pleaded with her.

Beverly exhaled loudly. He was right. She was now struggling for objectivity. "Alright," she agreed tiredly. She turned to look back at Jean-Luc. He met her eyes with a strange expression. She wanted his approval, but was entirely irked to see him simply turn and leave the room without a word.

"Wesley," Beverly called over to her son. "Where did your father-where did the captain go?"

Wesley shrugged. "I don't know, he just mumbled something and left."

"Please go out and ask him to come back," she said trying to keep her voice calm.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

* * *

 **On Board the** _ **Eureka**_ **deep in Orion Territory**

Will Riker had arranged the lighting in the room at just the right level. Perfect for romance. He gazed around the room. All of his new friends were here, and many of them were attractive. He lounged on some pillows and drank some more Romulan ale. The stuff was available in unlimited quantities on board the Erueka. Somehow Marco always came through for him. Riker waved at the Orion woman Samla he had befriended early on-the one who had taught him he could truly believe in Marco.

Samla winked back at him and gestured toward a beautiful Bolian woman, who was drinking something that looked like golden champagne and conversing joyfully with some more of his friends. Riker laughed and gave Samla the thumbs up sign. Samla was great at finding him new women to sleep with every night-when she wasn't available of course. His new bed could accommodate ten people comfortably.

That meant there would be plenty of room for Deanna when she arrived. He'd already asked Marco to allow him a separate room for the baby to live in. He hopped out of bed, and rummaged around in the items Marco had just delivered to him that morning. Marco always came through for him, and so he would come through for Marco. He just couldn't wait for the crew of the Enterprise to see just what they had been missing. He was so lucky.

He tapped a spoon against his glass noisily, quieting the chatter in the crowded room. "Listen up everybody, I've got something really special for you." Joyfully he lifted up the musical instrument and brought the trombone to his lips.

He was hardly able to hold his mouth in the right way, he was smiling so widely. But then he struck up a bouncy New Orleans tune. Across the room, a scraggly looking pirate type had picked up some kind of weird percussion instrument and stepped to Riker's side, joining in the song. Samla began dancing and clapping in time, and pretty soon the whole room was having a great time. No one even heard the doors slide open.

The gravelly voice was unmistakable. "Hey!"

The music instantly stopped, and Riker frowned turning to see Caine had entered the room. "Time to take a break from your non-stop partying, Riker. The boss needs you," Caine said.

Riker shrugged. "Okay...what's up?"

"We've got visitors incoming," said Caine, taking a drag from a stubby cigar. His hood was pulled back and his short blond hair and missing right eye as usual made him him the most striking person in the room. In this light, Riker noticed for the first time that Caine's face was heavily scarred as though he'd been burned by radiation long ago. Without his trademark cloak, Caine seemed more powerful, somehow. He was heavily muscled and his pale skin was covered in exotic tattoos. Riker would have to ask him about those sometime. Will loved a good story. Of course, he would have all the time in the universe. Marco had told him they were headed to a place where time would have no limit and they would all live forever.

Just wait until Jean-Luc learned about where they were headed. Just thinking about his friend lifted his spirits. He grinned. "Is the Enterprise here already?"

Caine smiled back, but it wasn't an invitation to be friendly. "Nope. Ferengi."

* * *

"Sir!" Wesley ran to catch up with his father. Picard slowed and then turned around.

"Wesley...what's wrong?"

Wesley jogged up to him. "Mom told me to come and bring you back."

Picard frowned and shook his head. "I'm more useful on the bridge right now, son."

"But...don't you want to be there for Seth?"

Picard smiled slightly. "Seth has you and your mother. I don't think my presence there is helpful at all, Wesley."

"What are you talking about?"

Picard inhaled and looked away distractedly, but said nothing.

"You mean what you almost did back there? What exactly was that, anyway? And when were you going to tell me you still had the power of the Q? Does Seth already know?" The words came out in a rush and sounded more demanding than Wesley had meant them to.

"I'm sorry, Wes, but it's a bit complicated."

"I'm listening," Wesley maintained.

 _He's giving me that look his mother has when she won't take no for an answer._ "I'm sorry, Wes. I promise I will talk to you about it later. I've got to head up to the bridge."

"You know, you're not always going to be able to walk away, or put things off for later. _Dad_ never did that. He always sat down and talked things through with me," Wesley called after him, unable to keep the resentment at bay.

Picard turned back around and could see the pain in his son's face. But hearing Jack evoked as the standard for fatherhood he had so far been unable to match, made him feel like his son had stepped on his heart. "I know. And I'm sorry, Wes," he said before resuming his walk to the turbo lift.

* * *

Lieutenant Natasha Yar watched closely as a senior security officer named Isaac Chandra showed a young ensign named Ashley Howell how to exit an joint lock. Meanwhile seven other security personnel stood around them in the circle observing anxiously. It was the third time Chandra had demonstrated the lock and the third time that Howell had failed to escape it.

"This isn't meant to be a marathon, Howell," Yar interjected.

"You escape the joint lock and then you counter-attack or gain some distance." Howell strained and pressed her elbow up into Chandra's jaw from her prone position, but despite her efforts, the man held her tightly.

Frustrated, Yar clapped her hands together twice, and gestured for her staff to disperse. "That's it! Let's take a break for 15 minutes, and then get back to it."

Ashley Howell jumped up from the mat and then jogged over to Yar, bending forward with her hands on her knees. She was still breathing hard when she straightened and addressed Yar. "I'm sorry, Chief. I'll keep practicing, and I'll get better."

Yar clenched her jaw and resisted the urge to snap at her young recruit. "I know, Ensign. But the time will come soon when your practice will be tested on more than your colleagues. And in that moment, I may not be around to accept your excuses."

Howell nodded quickly. "Yes sir." If the young woman was about to get emotional, Yar chalked it up to fatigue. Certainly she wanted to push her people, but not so much that they were too tired and sore to recapture Commander Riker.

"Dismissed," she said as gently as she was capable of. She wondered, watching the Ensign limp away, if she would ever be a source of comfort to anyone.

* * *

After Howell and the other officers had filed out of the gym, Yar sat down cross-legged on the mat, and let her head hang down limply, trying to stretch herself out for the next match. As she leaned forward, she reached up to catch the chain that she wore around her neck. It was a reflex, for the chain and the key that hung from it remained safely back in her quarters. She sat up straighter and stared at the wall.

It had been days since she had used the key to open the box and look at her old drawings. She didn't need to look at them, she thought to herself. _They are no longer part of my life. I need to move on for my own sake._ But as she closed her eyes she was taken back to her brief imprisonment with the captain on the Reman ship. There had been a flash of light when he had used those strange alien powers to transport the two of them back to the _Enterprise_. And the light had been so familiar to her. She opened her eyes again, but it was too late, as images of the past raced through her head.

 _Tasha held the little girl closer to her side as Caine stalked forward. He knelt down at a safe distance. She'd killed before, and she wasn't above killing Caine if he pushed her too far. And of course he knew this, as he had taught her not just how to defend herself from thugs and rapists, but how to kill. At eleven, she was as feared as anyone else in Caine's pack. Her seven year old sister on the other hand, was already a renowned pickpocket. Unlike Yar who loved discipline, Ishara was wild; so much so that Yar was now having trouble keeping up with her little sister. This meant it wasn't long before Yar would be unable to protect Ishara. Yar didn't move her focus from Caine's hard face and his cold blue eyes. He had that look today, and she knew a challenge was going to be posed any minute now._

 _"How old is she now?" Caine asked, pulling a long jagged knife from his boot. He dropped it onto the hard ground next to Yar's foot._

 _"Seven," Yar said slowly. "Why?"_

 _"How old does a little girl have to be before she knows better?"_

 _"What are you talking about, Caine?"_

 _He nodded toward Ishara. "Check her pocket..."_

 _Yar reached into her sister's pocket and pulled out a tiny packet of powder. It was a packet of sniff. Damn. "Ish," she said whispering into the little girl's ear. "What the hell are you doing with this?"_

 _Ishara looked up at her angrily. "I was going to sell it."_

 _Caine laughed. "You're kidding me." He stood up and was no longer smiling. "You two think you're going to be ruling the roost soon enough, is that it? Going to try and take my place? One a stone cold mercenary and the other a drug kingpin." He shook his index finger at them. "I don't think so."_

 _"It won't happen again," said Tasha. She poked Ishara in the ribs. "Right?"_

 _Ishara nodded slowly, wiping at her dirty face. "Yeah," she agreed reluctantly._

 _Yar tossed the packet of stimulants back to Caine, who caught it without looking. He shook his head. "Not good enough."_

 _Tasha, now aware that Caine was in no mood to bargain, pushed Ishara away. "Get out of here," she said to the little girl._

 _Just then, Caine jumped forward and with just a few steps had blocked Ishara's path. "I don't think so," he said, grabbing the girl around the shoulders. "You both know the penalty for stealing from me."_

 _Tasha's heart went cold. "Come on, Caine, she's only a kid."_

 _Caine smiled. "But you don't discriminate when it comes to killing, Natasha, now do you?"_

 _"She's my sister," Tasha said dully, her own voice sounding strange._

 _"Of the two of you, Tasha, you are the most valuable to me. Now I can't have thieves in my midst." He nodded down at the knife in the dirt."Make it quick, and you'll forget about it sooner."_

 _Tasha backed up. "No."_

 _Caine's blue eyes glinted. "I can end her life with just a twist of my wrist," he said putting his hand around Ishara's neck. Tasha saw Ishara tense up and knew the little girl was about to try and make a break for it._

 _In one smooth movement Tasha knelt down in the dirt, picked up the knife and threw it quickly. "Argh," Caine cried out, as the knife lodged into his knee and he fell backwards. Not wasting any time, he pulled the knife out of his knee, and then grabbed for his pistol. Yar yanked Ishara by the arm, and began to make a run for it, when it happened. The bright flash of light appeared out of nowhere, just as Caine was preparing to fire his disruptor at them. The white light made a popping sound and flashed again, burning Caine. He staggered backwards in agony and Tasha and Ishara ran for their lives._

Tasha forced herself out of her memories and got up from the mat, now stiff. Her staff would be back any minute to resume their training. But by then she had resolved to talk to the captain. She would cancel the rest of the training drills for the next few hours. She had to warn him about Caine.

* * *

After watching his father step into the turbo lift, Wesley walked back down the corridor toward sick bay. He paused in the doorway, no longer captivated by the intense bustling of the place. His mother was not visible from Wesley's vantage point, and something in him turned him back into the hallway. Still distracted by his frustrating conversation with his father, he walked on.

After he'd walked another minute or so, while staring at the deck he became aware that there was something moving immediately in front of him and he looked up. "Aa!" He shouted directly into Q's face. Q was directly in front of him, except that the entity was walking backwards, but matching the pace of Wesley's steps perfectly. "Q!"

"Really, I'd heard so much about you being a child prodigy, that I expected more than one syllable responses... but ENOUGH about you. Thinking about Picard, are we, hmm?"

Wesley shrugged, attempting to appear nonchalant, when in reality he did not trust Q and had no idea what could happen now that this omnipotent entity was playing such close attention to him. "Maybe... " he admitted warily, because in fact, he had been thinking about his father.

"Ah, well there is no maybe about it my young friend! You see I know just what you are thinking. You're wondering why your parents are paying more attention to some little twerp they hardly know while you're out here standing in the hallway alone."

"Shut up! That's my brother in there... don't talk about him that way."

"Now _that's_ the _Picard_ spirit!" Q made a mock confused face. "Or is that the Howard side? She's quite a handful as well."

"Q!"

"Ah," said Q knowingly. "Definitely the Picard side. He is constantly yelling 'Q' as if I don't know my own name."

"Look...just please leave me alone." Wesley attempted to walk around Q, but the entity stuck his index finger in the middle of Wesley's chest.

"But you must admit, Wesley Crusher, that you have been left in the dust by a younger, and yet somehow less annoying version of yourself. Doesn't this irk you in the slightest? Now keep in mind that I already know the answer to my own question..."

Wes made a face. "Seth and my father bonded...they have similar experiences-experiences I haven't had, you know." He shut his eyes remembering how he had been taken by the Borg. He still hadn't told his father about what he remembered. And he wasn't sure if he ever would, as it was much easier just not to think about any of it. Besides, his father hadn't asked. Regaining his strength he said: "Anyway...I guess it makes sense that they would be close."

Q was still watching him carefully. "But it still bothers, you,doesn't it?"

Wesley looked away. "Seth's a good kid, and you're not going to make me say that he's not,"Wesley said stubbornly.

"You may give the appearance of being fine with everything, but appearances mean little to a being such as me." Q's expression seemed to darken visibly. "Doesn't Picard's insensitivity and arrogance bother you? It bothers your mother, too and who could blame her? He's never going to change, young human."

Wesley turned his gaze back to Q and this time his feelings did show. "You might as well be talking about yourself, Q. He's just like you, and you made him that way!"

Q smiled. "So _that i_ s it. Wondering what it would be like if Picard had never met me?" Wesley tried to take a step backward but Q pursued him. He draped his arm around Wesley's shoulders. "Perhaps you would like to see what things could have been like, had your father never met me."

There was a flash of white light, and then just like that he and Q were somewhere else.

* * *

 **End of Book One...**

 **Please stay tuned for Book Two of this story. Thanks, and keep reading... -PP**


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